more or less, all or nothing

I am all or nothing.

Always and never.

Will or won’t.

I wish I were more or less.

Sometimes and maybe.

Probably.

It sounds strange to resolve to be non-committal. Almost oxymoronic. So I’m making no steadfast promises. No resolutions. Setting no goals.

I’m just going to try.

To be more or less.

To be more water, less alcohol
More fresh food, less salt and sugar
More movement, less sitting
More meditation, less over analyzing
More writing, less watching
More productive, less procrastinating
More careful, less wasteful
More peaceful, less chaotic
More love, more health, more happiness. Less judgement, less illness, less anger.

here I am

This year has been a turning point in my life. I didn’t realise how much it had changed me until today.

I had some rotten dreams last night. Really vividly repulsive dreams above losing loved ones, death and being alone in the dark. What made these dreams so awful was their similarity to my conscious life, my existence for the past six months.

Waking up this morning took a few attempts. Not only because I was tired, to be honest I’m exhausted, but because I was afraid of today. The last day of the year usually brings with it the chance to celebrate the year that has been and to welcome the new with wide open arms and a heart bursting full of anticipation. But I can’t bring myself to be so openly excited about 2014.

This year started off the way it was meant to.

I was in Paris, under the Eiffel Tower swigging champagne from a bottle with my darling husband. 2012 had been wretched. We promised each other that 2013 was going to be amazing. We found out upon our return home that six weeks in Europe can truly change your life. We were about to double our with twin boys on the way!

We were shocked, it wasn’t quite how we’d expected to start a family, but we were overjoyed. We were in love.

Then life threw us an enormous curve ball. An event to test our resilience and to leave us with questions that can never be answered. Our beautiful twin sons were born prematurely and lived only long enough for us to tell them how much they will always be loved.

So you see the last six months have been a blur. I’ve been trying to figure out this grieving business, but also trying to work out how to get my family through this in one piece. I still don’t have the answers but I’m still here.

It’s the last day of the year and as tempted as I am to throw my arms wide open and embrace the New Year, I won’t. I will edge closer to it gingerly and rather than celebrate the year that was 2013, I will celebrate making it to the end. I hope that when I wake tomorrow I will feel differently about the New Year, but I know that no switch is going to be flipped at midnight to make the year gone any easier to bear.

Instead, I will probably shed some tears of relief while watching a stunning fireworks display, kiss my husband and tell him that I love him and give 2014 a little smile and wave.