Unscripted
A new years day freewrite
Thank you for subscribing to Poems & That. I mainly write about lessons I have learned from sharing my poetry, beyond the writing. I sometimes share poems, and sometimes, like today, just share some musings (which falls into the ‘& that’ category.
Today, I have been annoyed at social media posts that declare, over and over again, in different fonts, something like ‘it’s ok if all you did is survive the year.’ I know what it means and intends. But it just makes me think of people who didn’t get that privilege. At some point in 2025 they left us. It makes me think like that because I am grieving.
Surviving, is indeed a huge privilege. An achievement. An absolute miracle.
I can’t tell you how much more awestruck I am at life in the face of grief.
The sunsets on my commute home. A clear night sky. Seeing a baby smiling at it’s parents. How the Sun keeps coming up, even under clouds. How the wind can move with such force. How the nights got darker and now lighter again. How my heart beats.
How I know my heart is different than it was one year ago. Same shape, same scientific make up. But it feels sore in a way that pulls the tear ducts in my eyes down the back of my throat and my eyes are pink from trying not to cry as much as they have cried.
This is the time of lists. Of rejecting lists. Of commitments. Of giving up. Of new beginnings. Of carrying on because we have to. Of change. Of personal KPI’s. Of projects. Of self improvement. Of self flagellation for not changing enough. For wishing for better. For vision boards. For manifesting a better year. Seeking adventure, glimmers, joy, rest, health, personal bests. For possibilities.
With or without resolution, with or without purpose, there is so much of what lies ahead that cannot be scripted or planned for. The biggest planner in the world can be blindsided by life.
Anything can happen. Not all of it will be good. But what a miracle it is that we can try to make the best of what we do get.
Those posts so utterly annoy me too, basically a) for what you say and b) as someone with a chronic illness which is often so very disabling (she says writing this with the added symptom of labyrinthitis for the last 8 days that is doing my head in and making life even more horrid) surviving is often the only thing we achieve over the year. I don’t need someone telling me it’s okay. It’s not fucking okay, it’s shit. Oh but at least I didn’t die! No, but many others who shouldn’t have did, some of them with my illness, almost all of them didn’t want to go, especially when part of a genocide.
(Sorry interrupted there and lost my thoughts)
So for those of us who literally just survived it feels like a slap in the face, a bit of virtue signalling, and very patronising.