I’m ushering in the new decade with my glass raised half empty. Actually, I’m barely able to raise it at all. Six years of living life alone has depleted me. I hear from other “spouseless” individuals that January is the worst month ever. The thought of another year of juggling bills, taxes, house maintenance is overwhelming; add another 12 months of trudging through aloneness, health concerns and the like and life can look pretty daunting. 
Before you run away, I do want to fill this glass with joy. I actually want it to spill over. Like many revving up their fitness routines, I resolve to recharge my emotional engine. It just takes a lot of determination and energy I currently lack. 
The holiday season was a wake up call. I discovered that a houseful of noise and chaos unearthed some unresolved trauma. For six years, there has been little noise in this house; everything is new and in place “ post-Harvey.” Silence and order is the new normal...and it’s safe! Stir the pot and fears bubble over. What if I have to pay for professional painters again? Will I be able to sell the house with nicks and bruises? I did not react to the sensory overload in a healthy manner: my chest hurt, I was bossy and I could not stop trying to put my quiet back together. Now I grieve for what I might have lost over Christmas. 
As much as I adore my children and grands, I’ve discovered I also need my own peer group for healthy balance...friends with similar journeys.  It’s just unproductive to share the ups and downs of unwanted single-hood with adult children. I think it terrifies them.
My eldest granddaughter shared with me her mother’s description of me: She’s awfully independent.” Interesting. Is that what it looks like? I accurately describe it as “in charge with no other option.” If they only knew...I’m often robotic, unsure, sometimes desperate. Six years full. 
Yet, I would like to raise my final 2020 glass with some of that newly found independence, dear granddaughter,  and throw in some new people. Adults please!