The slide started about three years ago. Or was it four? Slides can be insidious that way.
The cat broke my foot. My blood pressure spiked for no clear reason. The other weird symptoms showed up determined to remain mysterious. My weeks became crammed with doctor appointments. Trying to write, stay active, and just live was hard. Harder than I admitted even to myself.
Anxiety became a constant companion. Thinking was vague and muddy. Exhausting. Sleep was evasive and not restful or restorative. It became hard to read. To remember words. The ability to focus on even a simple plot was difficult.
And then came 2025, the Sandpaper Year.
I started 2025 with a fresh mindset and a determined goal. A promise to myself.
My Darling Dot heard that promise and said “All righty!!!” The Sandpaper Year that was 2025 was off and running.
It was a year of “Why is this happening,” followed by “Oh my gosh, I needed that!”
And the realization that all of it had nourished me. Like manna from heaven, only mine tasted more like poison than honey. No matter the flavor, it kept me alive. It kept that goal alive. No matter what was happening, I mostly talked a good game. Not to be falsely positive; I needed that carrot dangling in front of me.
Then in October it all crashed. First came disbelief. Then shame. Then the puddle. Nothing left but a gooey mess. Then dragging this sorry carcass up off the ground, shaking my fist like Scarlett O’Hara.
The shift began in earnest.
I had to become more selective. This part is kind of funny in hindsight. In addressing my deep-rooted trust issues, the pendulum had swung too far the other way. Trust wasn’t being well-balanced with discernment. The price for that was high.
Then, right in the nick of time, the conversation I didn’t know I needed until it happened. The resource I hadn’t known existed.
This new year feels like waking up from a fever dream, vivid and surreal, only with the memory and healing intact.
It feels like a near death experience where the light is suddenly seen and you are faced with a choice – carry on or give up. And you realize that bright beautiful light is here and now. The darkness only helped you see it.
You get to decide what stays or goes. You get to decide who or what to keep. You get to decide what gets in in the first place. You have the right and even the responsibility to get ruthlessly selective.
People might call this being a snob. I call it being sovereign.
So yes, be a snob. Be persnickety.
There’s so much out there that’s attractive, sometimes deceptively so.
But if it doesn’t bring you closer to becoming more YOU, it isn’t yours to keep no matter how pretty or sparkly.