I feel it somehow: the first post this year should be breathtaking, tremendous, and speechless. I mean, in a sense that it makes any reader out of speech...;)
This is ridiculous. I never felt such pressure of any New Years eve, or the following day (you know, the one called NYDay...). I used to celebrate but, apart from few exceptions, in a moderate way, time goes by, I'm getting older, that's fine (who am I kidding here; all these beauty related items on the bathroom shelf crying: 'anti fatigue! anti age! youth defense!' define my real fear of getting visibly old, which is pathetic but true).
I started this semi-diary of mine out of curiosity (what is my definition of a long-term commitment, apart from marriage), undefined desire to challenge my own fears (I am the one who hides her own me as much as possible; a mistress of crouchingness I should be called indeed...), and finally a need to restart doing something outside of my comfort zone, which was a joyful kids centric approach to life, great as an idea, not necessarily the right thing for your whole life. I mean I am a woman, a person, and that came before I became a mum. Which is great as an experience, a bundle of positive emotions I could not possibly feel otherwise, and I feel grateful every day, even when irritated with minor stuff, that I have a chance to be in such moments. But that doesn't mean I am not complete without being a mum; I guess I'm trying to say that having kids is just an overwhelming thing wrapping you on top of who you already are, and it is essential not to forget that identity of yours inside.
Hm. Interesting how I turned to 'yous' from 'Is' there; this just proves how difficult it is to open yourself (ok, that is: myself;), and realize key things.
Looks like new year's day is important after all....
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