To 2011, on the eve of its death

Dear 2011,

You are the suckiest year that has ever sucked, quite possibly the worst year of my life, and I hope you die a slow, miserable death. Not really about the dying part; I want you to go the hell away as quickly as possible.

2011, it's not (entirely) me, it's (mostly) you. The circumstances you have brought to me are completely unacceptable, and I'm going to have to ask you to leave and take them with you. You have brought nothing but difficulties, pain, and illness to me and my small family. There have been hospitalizations, financial difficulties, marital problems, struggles with the man (i.e. insurance and Early Intervention), depths of anguish and self-loathing I never knew existed, and more. I'm done with it. I'm ready to start fresh with a new year and try again to make life less craptastic. 2012 is looking far more attractive to me right now than you are. I hope you understand.

Of course, you haven't been completely without positive moments. You brought a trip to visit my bestie in North Carolina, some new bloggy friends, some measure of control over W's sensory issues (sort of), and my first (TWO!) crappy day presents. On balance, though, the good was far outweighed by the bad. I can't have that kind of negativity in my life, so we really need to go our separate ways.

It's not that I hate you, 2011. It's more like I loathe all 365 of your days and wish you nothing but ill. And I'm ok with that. It's time for both of us to move on. All that's left to say to you is good riddance.

Cheers,

Emily

P.S. (For my readers) - Sorry for not linking up to any old posts. Some of the stuff didn't get blogged about, some of it I'm not in a place to be reading tonight, and some, frankly, has been linked to death. Happy New Year! I hope 2012 is better to you than 2011 was.