Some of you may have heard of Reverb10 – it is a way to reflect on this year and manifest what’s next. It is also a series of prompts that gives you something to think on and write about as you reflect on the past year and publicly (and perhaps naively) air your wishes for the coming year. They ask you to sign a contract saying you will write something every day for the month of December – but let’s be honest, pharmacist we all know I’m not going to post every day of December. As I sit writing this (on the 3rd) I can hear one girl coughing in her bed, rx one baby wheezing in her crib and I’m stuffed up and choking on my tonsils. It’s been a loooong week.
Yet, here I am being hopeful and playing catch-up and we shall see how well I do this month – it has been a really crazy year for us so it is worth taking the time to reflect.
December 1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
My word for 2010: Change. Seemingly never-ending, non-stop change. This started just before 2010. My parents moved away for good. We got rid of our 20-year old car for something newer. We went from being renters to being homeowners for the first time – and had to do some major renovations in the process. We went from being a three-person family to a four-person family. We completely changed our diets & as a result we changed how we grocery shop. Some days it feels like there is nothing we didn’t change. We’re exhausted.
Another way to look at that too is that we have no ‘change’ left in that we went from finally having some money to having none (see: homeownership).
Ideal word (right now) for 2011: Stability. No big changes. No job changes. No home changes. No pregnancies! I would like to take the next year to sloooow down. This year I would like to slowly work on the house, watch the girls grow, plant a garden, rediscover a hobby. find our new rhythm as a four-person family – and get some sleep.
December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?
I feel like everything I do in a day contributes to me not writing. I think the biggest contributor is me though. Oh, I could blame the girls or a hundred other things but if I were really serious about it at this time in my life I would forgo sleep and write. I would make time. Can I eliminate it? Well, I can eliminate the amount of time I spend on the Internet wasting my time. I can choose to overcome my desire to just collapse on the couch at the end of the day and read a book before falling asleep. The biggest question is: is it my fear of failure as a writer which paralyzes me from writing anything more than a blah blog entry once in a while or is it just not the right (ha – write!) time for me?
December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).
Like my friend Jen I started reading some old blog posts to try and trigger my memory and help me choose a Moment but even reading through old entries I barely remember anything from earlier this year. I guess that is one of the blessings of blogging (or keeping a journal) – you have something to look back upon and act as your memory. I think the fact that I was pregnant for most of this year doesn’t help either – I’m definitely not “all there” when I am pregnant. That being said, the moment where I felt most alive would be when I was having Fionnuala. From my water breaking & slowly leaking out of me for 12 hours as I tried to get some sleep before I went to the hospital. To the 20 hours of oxytocin induced contractions where I did squats all night to try and help labour along, my doula cheering me along, the Mister sneaking food into me whenever the nurse left the room. Watching the sunset and then the sunrise from my hospital room. Listening to The Golden Gate Singers, Otis Redding, Wilson Pickett, Feist, Iron and Wine and a few others over and over again all night as I prayed things would start progressing. The sad realization that my body was not going into labour on it’s own. The fear of going into surgery and having another cesarean section – so terrified I couldn’t stop shaking and crying. The relief when it was all over. The perfect baby – and that perfect baby smell. The lonely days in the hospital mixed with the joy of recovering faster. The amazing way my heart ached for Moira as it expanded to include Fionnuala.
My goodness what a year it has been!