The Year of the Rabbit

I'd love to wish you all a very happy New Year!

2023 is the year of the rabbit, according to the Chinese calendar. Meaning; this year should be far more mild than 2022, which was the year of the tiger. I think we could all use a little calm after that absolute shitshow. The past twelve months absolutely rocked me to my core, physically, mentally, spiritually. If anyone else felt like 2022 mowed them over like an International Harvester, you are not alone.

Sincerely, I apologize for my absence.

I founded THGB so that I had something for ME to do, that had nothing to do with my kids, and I still managed to let my brain tell me it wasn't important and that I didn't have the time. My brain is a lying bitch.

We all make resolutions every year, and we rarely stick to them. This year, my resolution is to live my life outside of my children and my family. Recently, I've come to the painful realization that I have zero sense of self. Being a mother is all I've been since before I was even a legal adult, and I don't have an answer for people when they ask me what my hobbies are, or what I do for fun. My identity has been missing for nine years.

Another hard pill to swallow is the fact that I'm done having children. It's very bittersweet, and it's forced me to think about what I'm going to do with my time as the baby gets bigger and more independent. I found myself fantasizing about working outside the home again. Sitting in a coffee shop by myself while all of my kids are at school. Taking an uninterrupted bubble bath at night. Lots of small, insignificant things that I've not had the freedom to do in almost a decade.

Being a mother is the most incredible experience I've ever been blessed with, but damn. Nobody warned me about post partum depression or anxiety, or the fact that I would lose myself entirely.

My resolution for 2023 is to start finding her again, and I can't wait to embrace her when I do.