I love speed. It is thrilling. It makes me feel powerful. It makes me feel worthy. The more plates I am juggling at one time, the better.

We are all addicted to it, aren’t we? We love to complain about having too much to do and being exhausted, but we love our cluttered, break-neck-speed, too-busy lives.

It makes us feel powerful. It makes us feel worthy. It makes us feel alive.

We are afraid to slow down. At least, I am.

But I have.

Life put the breaks on this past year. I quit one job and my other one dwindled, taking me from a too-fast-lane to nearly parked. We stopped Zack’s after-school care and he comes home now. That means I stay home, too.

Right now if my calendar has one outing on it for the day, I’m doing well. The only shame in admitting that is my own fear of your opinion.

Many of you reading this right now feel a surge of envy. If only I could have a day like that, you think.

Yes, but only one day. Or maybe a week at most.

Slow scares me. It makes me feel past my prime. Where is my worth in always being available? Where is my worth in having time?

The house is clean enough. That’s not to say it would pass a Martha Stewart inspection. I just refuse to be a fanatic.

I have a list of shoulds to do and a pile of books to read. But this fall I have chosen pbs.org or nbc.com instead. I like the company.

I woke up this morning and realized I spent last evening looking at before and after photos of celebrities on Facebook. Really? Have I stooped that low?

I need a job. Part-time. With a large paycheck.

Because, even though I have time and a long list of worthwhile things I could do with it, somehow I need a push. I need a personal trainer. I need an administrator. I need someone or something outside myself to demand I do important things.

On the other hand, I have grown to enjoy being available when a friend calls to talk. I like having time to dog-sit while my friends work. I find peace in the quiet of sitting and breathing and thinking. I am glad to have space in my brain to really listen to my husband. Zack is thriving because I have time to go his pace and not worry about a list that has to be checked off. So what if we read The Cat in the Hat once more today? I have time for that.

My garden looks better than it has in a decade. My house is a home filled with personal touches. I bake bread and it smells wonderful. I write a blog I’ve put off for years. I pray more. I sleep better. I am way less crabby. I spend time with good friends who always welcome Zack when he comes along. I help people.

There is a balance somewhere between where I was and where I am today. I haven’t found it yet.

But that’s what the calendar turning over to a new year is all about, right? The magic of newness. The hope of reform. It may be another one of our many ways of manipulating time to keep us going in a forward direction, but I’ll take it. It’s going to be a good year.