2020 is the year that I’ve been forced to get my sh*t together.
And, no, it’s not going terribly well, but it’s been one major wakeup call after another.
Am I still burned out? Yes.
Am I still working a thankless job? Yes.
Am I still overweight? YES.
But I’ve realized that I can’t continue like this. 2020 was the stress-load that pushed me out of my “comfort-zone”, which, to be honest, was more stressful than most people’s normal. I’ve lived my whole life in a cesspool of stress, and it’s what I know. But it’s not good enough anymore.
My husband, Lev, and I started tracking our food and weight and making better choices. We both have started therapy. We are having actual discussions about our mental health and our finances. Lev got a better job (and is now looking for an even better one) and I’ve convinced myself to apply to other places, too.
I’m taking better care of myself physically than before, and I’ve started reconnecting with my own spirituality. I have a better relationship with my siblings now than ever before, because of the family drama. And I’ve finally cut my mother (mostly) out of my life. I have no contact, at least.
So, yeah. 2020 sucks. But maybe the intense sucky-ness is what I needed.