I remember writing about walking barefeet in April, and being hungry.
Six months later I am looking back, and wondering why I have not cooked more myself…
We as a family and as induviduals had a lot on our plates, but with the freshness of moving in OUR new home six days ago, it suddenly feels like by saying “don’t worry, it’ll all be better once we’ve moved it”, I left too much behind, too many decisions not made, too mamy easy-way-outs, too many times where more emotions would proven healthier than treating life as a fucking to-do-list. We would have moved in on-time just the same.
I do believe some rationalization is necessary when juggling familylife, work, building a home and oh, some time for yourself. However, managing expectations becomes a big part of it, including one’s own aspirations.
Judging myself on the year I think I failed in not delivering as much as I should have or even said I would.
I have trouble finding the reasons for that, though a lack of grounding plays a role. Remember, I could just lay down at night and fall asleep when I wanted. Not these days; I turn and stare at the black wall, and I don’t think it’s the damn pillow’s fault. Maybe It was the old appartment, I feel like I moved out six months ago. Maybe it’s getting older. Mind you, these are not excuses, this is me saying I have failed to reach certain goals.
Expectations shouldn’t have to be managed, they should always be exceeded.
It’s definitely time for a barefeet walk-about again, maybe tonight at the Llyndor Hall Best Western.