2022 was the worst year of my life. There really is no other way to put it. If a person can hate a year, then I will say I hate 2022. I know, I know, hating a year doesn’t get me anywhere. However, releasing that indescribable pain and anger, even somewhat, helps me to heal so I can take a few more steps forward into 2023.
- At the beginning of the year, I was diagnosed with adult-onset asthma, high cholesterol and fibromyalgia with chronic neuropathic pain. I’m now on medication for each of those conditions. Did I mention I’m also on a CPAP at night for sleep apnea? (a deep sigh and an eye roll being done here)
- In May, as those of you who follow this blog know, I lost my beloved, precious, first born son, Brendan Bjørn. There is no greater loss than that of a child. Half of my heart will forever be missing.
- In July, I got covid, probably for the second time. Long covid has now been discussed.
- And currently, I embarrassingly weigh more than I’ve ever been before and I’m disgusted with that weight. My other health conditions don’t help with my weight, and my weight doesn’t help those conditions. It is a truly vicious circle.
So here we are today. There is one day left in 2022 and I, for one, will not be sad to see the door close on this year. I must now look ahead to 2023. Things have to change and indeed, improve. My health is a primary focus. Declan’s future is another.
This all leaves me with much to ponder as the New Year quickly approaches.
In my head, I wrestle with the realistic understanding that life is short and this is our one and only shot at it. As the saying goes, life is not a dress rehearsal. So I wonder: Where do my dreams fit in with the remaining time I have? What dreams do I, or must I, sacrifice and which ones can I actually see to fruition? I’ve lived enough of life to know that I cannot have it all, as some unrealistic folks might like to suggest.
I’m entering 2023 with far more questions than answers.
I won’t be setting any New Year’s resolutions.
I’m just going to try my best to put one foot in front of the other (figuratively and literally) while I learn how to navigate and live life without Brendan Bjørn and with these new health concerns of my own. I will hold my younger son’s hand (again, figuratively and literally) as we step into this new year, this new life, for us both.
I will do it all with such deep gratitude and love for my son Declan and with the blessed memories and unending love that I have for my angel Brendan Bjørn.