Do you ever face a new year with apprehension? 2005 was magical, in every way. 2006 was good--really, really good. Yet right towards the end, I've felt the wobbling of the tower. It's as if the foundations are shifting, I'm noticing the tremors and I'm hoping that these are merely after shocks of some positive experiences, and not the forshadowing of an emotional earthquake. We southern Californians always do a double take when the earth moves a bit. Is this left over from the last shaking or is it new? Is the big one coming? I hope not.
These are the sorts of worries I nurse when insomnia kicks in.
- I've given up the women's forum that I moderated for seven years. We still do meet online, but the space I created is now empty of new posts and I miss the old context and the dream it represented.
- Grad school ends in May. Xavier is what has made my transition to Ohio especially meaningful. I have loved all four years, every class. To think of not being a student is as though I'm saying good-bye to my youthful self again, only this time for good. I loved college. I love grad school. I love learning. I love being young.
- Johannah will leave for college in the fall. That means we'll have two kids gone. She won't be as close to home as Noah. Her nearest choice is two hours and the furthest is 13 driving. So in any case, she won't be popping home like Noah does.
- Jacob will start full time high school next fall. I feel sadness at watching my little homeschool dwindle to two.
- We have no big trips planned this year. After one summer in Italy and the next in California, 2007 looks bleak of scenery and absent of family.
- I feel internally antsy about my business. It's gone very well in the last two years, but I know it depends on me to take the next step for its continued growth, and I feel unqualified to manage the next stage.... which means hiring people and adding a layer of complexity I am anxious about handling.
- I feel different. There is a difference in my body, mind, personality. Perhaps it is the mid-forties which are causing me to shed layers of pretense, to not have patience for poor writing, to feel cranky about how quickly time goes by, to want to "write that book" already and quit thinking about it, to wish I could exercise more and find time to do it without guilt that I'm taking time away from the kids. There is an urgency in me that is conflicting with the creeping anxiety that I can't or won't or might miss it somehow - that the window is closing.
- I worry more. As our kids get older, I find myself less confident about how it will all turn out. And I love them more than ever.