Out with the old

**pulls out a fresh box of tissues**

I haven't been to bed yet, but it is already New Year's Eve out there. And in here. I've been sitting in the arbor with the garden lights going, post beer, post Pams, pondering what this day really means.

It's the final day in a sequence of days (hours minutes seconds nanoseconds) created by man (He who had the audacity to measure the year at 365.25 days and really fuck the calendar up) to measure the passing of His time - it's only people need that sort of accuracy, Nature takes care of her own.

This day should have been my parents' 53rd wedding anniversary, but Mum didn't make it that far.

It could be the anniversary of the birth of lots of noteworthy people or the death of others largely unfamiliar.

It could be the day that I empty the bin of the unnecessary baggage this last year has brought and do an Eminem and clean out my closets. Sitting out there at 2 in the morning listening to plums hitting the ground and the nets, I thought about why the tree has such a huge crop this year that branches are breaking off in the wind and rain under the weight whilst large amounts of new growth sprout all around the base. I think the tree approves of its new treatment. Last year it was buried behind corrugated iron and tilt doors until we moved it all. And I say we, giving Ian all credit for what he did around the garden. But not for what I did afterwards.

I painted the landscape and I made the place happy and kept myself sane at the same time growing things and deriving satisfaction from harvesting my labours - strawberries, rhubarb, cabbage, peas, lettuce, radishes, gherkin, plums, spring onions and chives so far, tomatoes corn, cucumbers, sunflowers, shallots, more peas, more cabbages, more rhubarb to come soon.

And so, sitting in the dark inside that landscape, and the simplicity of the bounty it's given back and I thought about all those New years Resolutions I won't be making because it's bullshit and all the hype of a new year beginning that I won't be heavily indulging in and that my focus should be on letting go of those things which serve no purpose but to hurt me, so that I might find a little peace and freedom to savour what tiny victories I achieved during a year of loss and adjustment.

I am becoming resigned to the possibility that the numbness in my hands and feet might not go away, even that it could get worse. That my legs might just continue to weaken. And that clonazepam might end up a daily feature again - and thus risk the addiction again. I've hit a brick wall in fighting the MonSter so I think I need a new strategy. I think I should start by taking care of me. Because no one else will.

But first I think I have to find "me" again.

In my quest for painfreedom I might check the bottom of the glass bottles tonight at our favourite family watering hole at the FlatCat's in Thames. It's been a year of pain and misery, of losing what matters, fear and tears. But today, that year ends. Tomorrow's pain might be more hang over related... Flattie's 2 x Canterbury Cream for $20 purchase might ensure that...

May this new calendar year bring you the very best it can. Without the hangover.