I hit my 40s a few years ago. Didn't think much of it really and certainly didn't feel any older.
Now however, the years seem to be flying by and I've hardly had time to catch up. Embarrassingly I still have a few *cough* xmas items that haven't been stored away yet.
Then today H brought our bedroom fan in from the garage. Today it hit 78F which is warm for the Pacific Northwest. Taking out the 'summer' fan is kinda a benchmark cause it stays out until the very first frost which is usually sometime in October.
And it got me thinking, where exactly has this year gone and what(if anything) have I accomplished so far since January?
If I'm honest with myself...not a whole hell of a lot.
I haven't learned anything new. Haven't started any new project. Really, other than reading and restarting my blog I haven't done anything. Nada. Nothing.
I used to be a self-starter. Now H practically has to prod me to leave the house. My balance is so off...that I'm at a loss of where to begin. Even thinking about trying to regain some balance scares me to the point of panic attacks.
How did it ever get this bad? Where did I lose my way?
Sure the obvious answer would be when I was diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease...but I can't blame all my problems on my sickness as much as I would like to.
When exactly did I put aside my plans and aspirations? I'm really not sure. Even my journal entries during this period are sparse.
And putting the house in order after our move last thanksgiving has been an exercise in doing the bare minimum. There's so much to be done and I can't seem to find my starting point.
If I keep letting myself get worked up in a frenzy I'm not going to accomplish anything.
I guess I need to remind myself that although it all seems so overwhelming I still can only start at square one. And sometimes square one is admitting that I need help.