I learned that the magic of poise, calmness, and grace, is simply in knowing how to be still. Just for a bit.
I learned to love, even (or especially) with the anticipation of loss.
I embraced my deepest desire to write, and made a vow to pursue it with vigor- despite rejection, despite criticism, despite my own ego. Through the humility of loving something more than I loved myself, I was gifted with opportunities to find, create, and share my voice with the world. Thank you.
This past year,
I discovered the delicate boundary between creative freedom and creative anxiety, and accepted that no final product of any artist is free of creative compromise.
It was the year I was able to admit that no food, no sleep, no indulgence wasn't me being ascetic or minimal - I was anhedonic and deeply unhappy. It was the year I learned how to treat myself half as well as I treat those around me.
"home" kept shifting forms & meaning. This person, that job, this place, another person. It was the year of trying to feel at home in my own skin, instead.
In a dozen months,
I changed my hair color at least a dozen times. Blonde, blonder, purple, pink, black, blue, everything in between. (I'm back to my natural brunette now.)
It was the year
that I was fighting to forgive people who had forgiven me with no question or effort, and I was humbled by their ability to perform an act of love that I had yet to even introduce to myself. I went through pseudo-forgiveness with too strong of a bitter aftertaste to qualify it as real. I went through the pursuit of forgetting (Lacuna Inc.?), but manipulating the brain doesn't yield same results as having a truly pure heart does.
I learned to forgive myself first. Understand others. Have empathy for very human wrongdoings. And let forgiveness come if it may.
was filled with sweetness. With music and dance. With warmth and laughter and friends who consistently made my heart nearly burst with joy. It was filled experiences, dense with beauty and merit, several of which I experienced alone.
But it was also filled with darkness. A lot of crying - ugly crying, shaking, shrieking, dry-heaving on the floor crying. Not being able to see or think or breathe -
crying. Violent fights, heart-dropping disappointment, unforeseen tragedies. With blood and pills and a dangerous amount of loneliness. + Some more crying.
I almost lost myself.
was not a year of flourishing. Nor of healing. Nor recovery. Nor even trying.
It was the year of realizing that I should.
I hope, will be a year of "me."
Less of "finding" or "creating" myself, but just. Being.
By simplifying. Shedding dead weight. Ignoring valueless noise.
By refining my words and actions. Saying "no, thank you," and "yes, please" - and meaning both.
By making decisions according to what's right, in my own right.
By looking in the mirror and finding value in who I am, not just in the things I do.
By letting go of people that hurt, and loving people just cuz.
I'm hoping for consistent, gradual progress.
I may never be healthy.
I may never be content.
But I know now, to try. With all the direction and sense of purpose that this year has gifted me. Just try.
Happy New Year, my loves. May this one bring you home.