First of all, I'm both impressed and annoyed with myself by this point in the 30 days game. I am proud of myself for having stuck it out; I sometimes have a tendency to start a project, only to leave it unfinished. But I also feel a little self-indulgent writing all these things about myself, too. But it's been a fun endeavor, and I've enjoyed reading everyone else's posts.
Now here is the depressing part. I don't really have any hopes, or dreams--and definitely no plans--for the next 365 days. My obvious hope would be to bring this little boy home alive. But I've learned the hard way that plans can go to shit in an instant. I don't know that I can handle hitching my wagon to a falling star again.
So, I guess my hopes and dreams are that my children and C and I stay alive for a year? And longer? That we have a healthy 365 days ahead of us? That our house stays standing? We have food and money enough to feed and clothe ourselves? I can maintain a somewhat reasonable grip on sanity and reality?
When your life hits rock bottom, there's little in the way of expectations to reach for. Waking up alive is enough. And I guess that's something right there. It's just not how I enjoy living my life. I'd love to dream of a vacation, getting myself back into shape, being happy, accomplishing some sort of personal goal. But I can't even formulate any of those things in my mind yet.
Sorry for being depressing, it's just kind of where I am right now. How's that for self-indulgent?