Tick Tock

My year ends on the solstice.

The days are shorter and shorter now, and I can feel the clock ticking down in my head when I look outside. The trees have finally dropped all their leaves, gnarled branches stark against the dim sky. It feels like time is pressing in against me, an urgency — for what I don’t know — spurring me to GO! DO! before it’s too late.

I’m resisting the urge. This year, I’m sitting with my thoughts.


I opened my email from Gwen Bell the other day, and the topic was frictionless writing.

“…As in: what does the writer have to write about if she’s living a frictionless life…”


I saw my friend for lunch the other day. She asked what was new in my life. After a moment of mental deer-in-the-headlights, all I could come up with was that the baby had found her toes.

Frictionless? I’m fucking teflon.


Sitting. Processing. Reflection.

I can’t remember another time when I was this lucid, this conscious, about what I am doing. The last six years have been a blur of desire for a baby, pain at not having a baby, excitement about the future baby, and exhaustion at the reality of a baby. Rinse, repeat.

Two days ago, I sat down and tried to articulate “at this time next year, what do I want to have accomplished? what do I want my life to look like? how do I want to feel? how do I want people to see me?” and I was actually able to do that in a healthy way.

I am Ebenezer Scrooge, seeing the present, remembering the past, and deciding to change the future.

2 thoughts on “Tick Tock

  1. Loved this post. Not that I wish you friction or, euphemistically, “interesting times,” but I admire and love reading about this thoughtful sort of self-reflection

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