It’s 2022. what the heck.
Over the last few years I’ve dealt with a separation, a divorce, becoming a single dad and a move to a house that needs a lot of TLC, new school district, new job, broken arm so it’s been…more than normal. Oh yeah, and a pandemic–the Covid–the Rona. Can’t forget that.
All of that put together have been road bumps in my goals. At least in my goals previously I had hope to hit in previous years.
But goals break your heart. They hurt. They remind you of your short comings. And if you do hit a goal the dopamine hit is short lived. Whoo hoo! I lost 50 pounds, I ran 10 miles, I wrote a book! Quickly becomes I need to lose 60 pounds, run 12 miles, write a New York Times Best Seller. Back to the grind.
Ugh. That has become exhausting.
As long I am alive I hope to be growing.
This year, I just want to write a little more, get a little better. Find new places to sell my work. Run more often. Take more pictures. Just growth. Goals are for soccer.