The corners of my brain were itchy.
The corners of my brain were itchy, and I was staring at the many blank pages of my 2017 agenda.
Every year, I buy a new one, the blank pages filled with promise, and every year I end up staring at those very same pages, all too few with notes and tasks written on them as intended, even fewer with those notes and tasks fully executed.
As I flip through, I remember all my great plans. The burst of energy at the start of the year giving away to… giving away to another sea of nothing. Then very suddenly, the pages fill up once more, this time far more meticulous as everything falls apart and I cling to any kind of structure that I can find.
“Please remember to eat”, it reminds me.
“Water will stop you from dying, maybe.”
Many of these too, are left unchecked, which means I couldn’t even save myself when I needed saving the most.
The rest of the year gets better and worse, months of rebuilding, days of regret, weeks of half-hearted work giving away to nothing once again.
The corners of my brain were itchy, and filling with regret. And hope.
I look at the calendar for 2018, and hatch a plan. I will get another agenda. I will do better, not just on those pages, but in general. I will hold myself accountable, and I will make and write and do.
I will be a better husband.
I will be a better me.
I won’t spend another December looking through an agenda filled with regrets, and think to myself, “another year wasted”.
As I get to the end of January, I’m already a little behind where I want to be. I was sick for a bit and it threw me for a loop, but… but that can’t be an excuse, because there’s always an excuse. Always. That’s why the agendas stay to empty.
And so, there’s this. A note from the middle of the night. A signal flare saying something… anything… selfishly for me. For today, it’s enough. It will calm my brain and let me push on to tomorrow which… will be better.
And so here’s to 2018. The year where it all happens, partly because I need it to, but mostly because I’ve always wanted it to. Every year. This is the one where it happens. Whatever “it” is.