Wuthering Heights!

I didn’t have any resolutions for this year – I didn’t have any last year either. Not because I thought I would fail them, but really because I couldn’t think of any. Everything I am doing in life right now is a continuation of a goal I had set myself or a responsibility I had out on myself prior to the year’s beginning.

Like homeschooling, like being consistent with lifting weights, like losing weight, like reading more, like practising art skills or walking out in nature more often with my kids or adding colour in my life. All ongoing.

I suppose one thing I like to think about 2024 is that it will be ‘the year of the core’. Exploring core strength, rehabilitating my damaged core (child-carrying does things to core muscles). Not getting ‘abs’ but experiencing the deep strength that comes with a built core. Doing certain exercises, like pull-ups, chin-ups, leg raises while hanging, heck maybe even a cartwheel.

I would like to pen down this story that is scribbled all around the walls of my brain, and which seeps out from between my fingers sometimes and darts through the pages of this blog like an uncontrollable menace. It sizzles and hisses and won’t be silenced, so I expect if I immortalise it on ‘paper’ it might finally find rest, and give my brain some respite from its incessant chatter.

I finished a re-read of Jane Eyre last month and yesterday I turned the last page on that chaotic nightmare that is Wuthering Heights. It’s my fourth time reading it and I tell you, it’s emotionally unhinged. It tells me a different story each time I read it. This time, it spoke of futile hope when love and kindness are not given freely. Also that people ought to socialise with people other than their own families sometimes lest they all marry each other for want of better things to do.

Have you any resolutions for this year?

Am I doing bloganuary? I just logged in to check my blog before kids’ bedtime..

Daily writing prompt

Do you spend more time thinking about the future or the past? Why?

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Oh dear. Ugh. I hate this one. But I’ll answer it anyway. The past, probably. Cringefest in my brain, all the embarrassing things I said and did. And the dumb things I chose to do. And the downright idiotic psychopathic people my lonely lost self chose to associate with. Starved of affection? Validation? God knows. Couldn’t smell the real deal when it was shoved in my face, so chased after something bogus, and harmful. Eurgh. It reeks.

I don’t think about that a lot anymore though. It rears its ugly head every so often but I soon snuff it out.

I am scared of the future. Always have been. I feel somehow I don’t deserve it. Like it’s too good for me. Or the good in it is too high for me to reach. Like I am not worthy. But when I question it I don’t understand what I have ever done to be unworthy?

Hmm, maybe making a stupid choice at 16? I was told often enough it ruined my life and made me the most evil villain to ever exist.

But the rational almost 30-year old me knows this cannot be true.

Then I try to psychoanalyse it and it presents itself clear as day but I am terrified to take it and let it speak to me.

It says ‘you never felt you deserved good things as a child.’

Now, THERE is some unpacking for me to do. Do it I must, before my kids get older, and think they too don’t deserve good things in life, so don’t go chasing better.