Hey there, readers! It’s been a year and a half since my last post, so if you don’t remember me, that’s fair. But honestly, how could you forget? Shame on you. The last blog post I drafted was December of 2018 titled “Cold,” so just assume my hiatus was due in part to becoming the ice queen I always knew I was, and not at all because I’ve been doubting myself as a writer. 

I’ve been gone so long that my own blog didn’t recognize me logging in and I had to reset my password and submit a DNA test to prove myself, etc., etc. Anyway, now I’m back and I’m ready to talk shit about 2019 with the rest of you. 

The only way I can sum up the desperation I felt toward the end of 2019 is through a harrowing tale. Picture me on a Friday afternoon a few weeks ago at the grocery store. It had been a long week at work, and I thought I won the jackpot because my favorite (usually pretty expensive) ice cream was on sale. Too good to be true, right? RIGHT. It appears that my favorite flavor is the same as everyone else’s because the last two pints of Izzy’s Midnight Graham Crunch were stacked on top of each other at the very back of the freezer on the very top shelf. Well out of my reach. 

There wasn’t time to waste. I parked my cart in front of the freezer door and went in search of a hero. I found one in the form of an ice-scraper and used that to fish both pints of ice cream down from the shelf. Emerging from the freezer victorious, I turned around to find a woman watching me with an expression of awe and fear. “Wow,” she said, walking away quickly. “That’s one way to do it.”  

2019 was kind of rough. Yes, there were bright spots and joy and happiness and good things that happened. But I spent the majority of the year feeling burnt out in nearly every facet of my life, and I didn’t do much to pull myself out of it. There’s really not much more to say about it, other than I’m just now (an entire year later) starting to feel energized again. 

In scrolling through social media yesterday and reading the year-end posts from friends and strangers alike, I selfishly found comfort in seeing I wasn’t the only one who struggled with how gross 2019 was. It chewed us up and spit us out, which was pretty rude. If you’re looking for a silver lining, the good news is if you woke up this morning, January 1, then that means it did spit you out. That means we can brush off the saliva (I’m sorry, even I’m grossed out now) and take steps forward into this new year.  

As I sat at home last night with Murphy, ringing in the new year while watching Dumplin’ on Netflix and drinking champagne from a can, I was trying to figure out what my resolutions are for 2020. I set the bar pretty low with how last year went (*cough* burnout *cough* didn’t do much *cough*), so honestly any accomplishment is an improvement. 

I found the inspiration I needed in a line from Ruth Awad’s poem “Moral Inventory”. The whole thing is beautiful, so please read it if you have time, but this simple and lovely line hit me like a sack of flour in the absolute best way possible: “I want to love what I can, while I can.” 

That’s my resolution for 2020, and probably for every year from here on out. And while I’m pretty sure Awad meant this in a natural, more worldly way, (and I’ll practice embodying this meaning, too) I plan to really practice this with myself. Doing things for my body (read: exercising, eating healthier, etc.) as an act of love instead of punishment. Spending more time with my words and the words of others because I love them, instead of settling on the couch and turning on Netflix because it’s easy. It also means giving myself permission to rest instead of pushing myself to the point of burnout. 

It also means still loving Murphy even though he bit me this morning for giving him too much attention. The nerve. 

Anyway, here’s to 2020, a year that finally matches my eyesight levels. I’d also say that this is the year I post more often here, but we all know I’m horrible keeping that promise. You’ll just have to wait and see. Consider this the cliffhanger that none of you asked for. 

Also, an ice cream update: I still have one of the pints in my freezer, but if you think I’m sharing with anyone you’ve lost your mind. Go get an ice-scraper and fend for yourself! 

-e