It is June now. It had been January before that, and we had been trying to set goals and make plans. It had been October before, and we had been waiting for the year to go away and to give us something new.
I think I am finally making progress in certain aspects of my life, slowly, after a prolonged bout of perseverance that is difficult to relate to, after many false starts and dead ends. It is not easy still, and there are so many matters to resolve yet, but progress, even if by inches and not by yards, is still progress.
In other aspects, the work I had put in has been futile. Some matters unravelled brutally, and some more gradually, and some are still in the breaking, but perhaps they will all clear up soon enough. I am concerned, but I am not worried yet. I think I have reached my worry quota for the year already.
While the year has been difficult, I feel it is still the worthwhile sort of difficult – for once, I am working towards what I want instead of working, without control or choice, to deal with circumstances or people that were purely detrimental. It might come down to the same means and measures of work in the end, but emotionally there is a difference from the beleaguered victim situation that I have been in before.
There are still a few more months to get through, before writing off the year. Maybe they will surprise me. Maybe they will even surprise me pleasantly.