The start of a new year generally brings hope but since 2020, hope seems futile. I was tremendously hopeful for 2020 and then it went down the crapper real fast. 2021, I hoped would be better. Vaccines were coming, clearly people would do the right thing and the world would get back on track. Well, people suck, and the world is still a disaster. A beautiful disaster, but a disaster nonetheless.
2021’s final efff you was taking Betty White, a woman who radiated hope. It was a gut punch when I saw a post on Facebook “RIP Betty White,” and I immediately scoured the internet hoping (there’s that word again), it would be a hoax. It wasn’t. The last day of the year and Betty White had had enough. Some people have said that it was genius comedic timing on her part, with the People magazine 100th birthday tribute out on newsstands. Others have suggested she didn’t want us to hate 2022 for being the year we lost her, so she ducked out before the calendar switched over. All I know is, the world is a little bleaker without her in it.
So here we are, 2022, a world without Betty White, a world where covid is still rampant, the political divide and anger are alive and well.
I’m not hoping for anything this year. I’m digging deep and working to take better care of myself. The weight of the last few years has been weighing on me and I realize, I’ve not been managing it as well as I thought. Rather than any grandiose resolutions, I’m focusing on the simple: laugh more, move more, less naps to prioritize sleep at night, eat a variety of fresh foods, pay attention to when I’m hungry and when I am full, love deeper, and find as much joy as I can.
Martinis and Meltdowns 