last pointless introspection of the year

God, this white shit falling out the sky is screwing with my plans and itinerary for beginning my celebration of this holiday that I despise. So, lucky yous, you're getting at least one more 2008 blog post outta me. Hey, I could go, y'know, postal and actually make 366 entries for the year, which was my original plan till slacking in September threw me off track. But posting (even more than usual) drivel just to post seems counterproductive to the spirit of writing resolutions. So you'll get what you get, and like it!

Ahem. Yeah, I'm against the drivel alright.

Pointless introspection. Okay. One of the reasons I didn't continue majoring in psychology in college like I'd planned was that it didn't take me very many classes to realize that a great deal of what they were teaching me was shite. But in amongst the shite was the occasional gem, the occasional gleaming nugget of good sense. Like Maslow and his hierarchy. I was reminded of this today as I reflected on 2008 The Year. Duh duh DUH.

I was thinking 2008 was a pretty crappy year all around and then I sorta cracked myself up. What the hell are you talking about, Andrea? 2008 was the first year in a few without any major crises, without boatloads of worry and stress about major, important things. I ended 2005 extremely stressed, even if I wasn't totally aware how stressed I was: I'd made a major life change in going part time at my job and going back to school, one that was positive because I was happy I'd done it, but it was scary and new and a lot of work and full of uncertainty; plus, I was stuffing all my worry about D down, knowing he was very sick and getting sicker, but powerless to do anything about it till we reached crisis-level. I ended 2006 hopeful and grateful: it had been one of the hardest years of my life with D in the hospital the greater part of the summer, my trying to make it through school despite that, and running out of money, but I was happy to have my son alive, not institutionalized, and showing some glimmers of enjoyment in life, and I was grateful for all the help and kindnesses that we'd been shown, and I could see the light at the end of the tunnel with just a month of school left. I ended 2007 tired but still hopeful: D seemed stable, my working six days a week for a good part of the year then negotiating my better wages and terms at the hospital (after those massage bastards had screwed me) had brought me back to at least a glimmer of financial security, and I had hopes that 2008 would bring me some relaxation, fun, and perhaps freedom from worry.

Well, I dunno. You've been reading along. Has 2008 been full of relaxation, fun, and freedom from worry? Hardly.

But it hasn't been the crisis after trauma after deadline after worry after crisis that the last few years have been. So why am I not saying, "oh, what a great year!"? Why did I nevertheless spend such a great portion of it stressed out and miserable and making myself sick? (Besides, y'know, my fucking hormones, that is, because I am more and more convinced with each passing day that all this anxiety and mood-swingy-ness is my estrogen levels flopping all over the place, and thank god for Marcy and her magic needles.) Maslow! I couldn't worry about being happy the last few years--I was too busy surviving. But now that my survival, my son's survival, my financial security, are much less at risk, I could take a breath and start worrying about those higher level needs that aren't totally peachy keen. Being in crisis keeps you from having to examine that kind of stuff.

Point? None. I *told* you it was pointless introspection.

Happy New Year, beloved blog readers. Hope you're self-actualizing all over the place.

xoxo