When we start on the 1st of January, we have all these wonderful ideas of resolutions and promises to ourselves that by February we have either forgotten or broken. I realised that I would always do this to myself and suffer the bizarre guilt it gave me after failing at a task I shouldn’t be forced to give myself just because society tells me to.
Last year I had made all these promises about how I would write more, be more involved and we just do better. And in truth it suddenly forced me to try and do stuff no longer for myself and my enjoyment. Hell, right now as I’m typing this on new years eve, smoking a cigarette after promising myself for the 18th time that I would quit for good, I’m still plagued by guilt of all the things my head tells me that I failed to do this year.
I even gave up on writing, not one but two books. Scrapping my work was probably the hardest thing i did in 2017 and the truth was, I knew I wouldn’t have completed it. I stopped blogging for months, because well, I couldn’t face it. I had felt like I had failed, when the truth of the matter is, I was really fucking sick.
Finding myself now at a point in my life where I could no longer pretend that I was well, both mentally and physically was a blessing to me. Sure being in a wheelchair 90% of the time and being so tired I can barely move to go to the toilet really doesn’t sound fucking glamorous but it put EVERYTHING into perspective. I really needed to give myself a break from time to time and not beat myself up anymore for the things I could no longer accomplish.
Last year, just before I got sick, I wanted to start up a Brighton publication for LGBT writers to have a platform to write articles. This was based on the fact that whilst Brighton does have a free one, it doesn’t serve a purpose for a huge chuck of the community. I still have the account set up but nothing got done with it. I felt so disappointed in myself, but I realised that I couldn’t because, I am not in a position to run this by myself and two sometimes it’s just not the right time. This year I would like to start making headway on it, but if I can’t, I can’t. I shouldn’t feel guilty for things I am too tired to do anymore.
This year I’m going to focus on recovery from last year. I’m going to slowly get myself back into writing. I’m going to slowly get back into doing more things that I enjoy. I want to go back and actually go back to my roots. I have spent so long being an adopted parent for everyone at times, that I had almost forgotten who I actually am anymore.
And if I don’t manage to do this stuff, then fuck it. At least I tried and I shouldn’t feel guilty about it.