One of the things that led me to back to blogging was engaging in a new happiness project. The first month (January, and yes, I'm behind on things) was about self-knowledge, and I found it so rewarding to spend some time sitting with and thinking about myself. Now, four months later, I'm still gaining from the insight of the work I did back then, and honestly, even if I ended the project now, it would have been worth it for the experience of that first month.
The month fit in well with a resolution I made for my 41st birthday the previous September (ever celebrated a birthday in quarantine during a pandemic while wildfires raged not far from your home? There wasn't much celebrating). In the quiet of the days surrounding my birthday—apocalyptic hellscape that it was—I vowed to connect with myself over the next year. I know, I know, the least interesting thing a middle-aged, middle-class white woman can vow to do. But after years mothering young children and a year of rebellion from it, it was time to settle into something...else. Something closer to me.
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