We have finally reached the end of 2017. The first half of this year almost ended me. Between the pain and hurt and recovery and uncertainty, there were definitely times it felt like too much. It was an excruciating battle, but I survived. Fortunately, things started to improve right around the middle of the year, and as they say, all’s well that ends well. I am happy to report and we are closing out this year on a much happier note.

In general, I like New Year’s. I like the idea of a clean slate. It indulges my more youthful, unburdened fantasies. It is the one night of the year that I can be unabashedly optimistic about my future. It is a rare moment where dreaming is encouraged, where the possibilities for my life feel like they could be realized, and where the dampening weight of experience doesn’t depress my hopes and dreams.

I like the reflection on the year as we are parted. I like to think about who I am now and who I could still be. I like the closure that comes from such a significant turning of time. I like the finality, the tidiness of it. I suspect many people feel hopeful about this too, which is why we celebrate it so intently. It’s a night where we celebrate being alive and the great possibilities that still await us.

Part of me wanted to honor the evening by really focusing on the future. I wanted to plot it all out on paper: who I want to be, how to get there, things to change, things to try, etc. But I just can’t seem to get there this year. For the first time in my life, I am not anxiously reaching for anything beyond my grasp. I don’t feel like I need to be more of anything. I have lived most of my life that way, and for now things are so calm that I am happy to just float here a moment. I am still settling in to less trauma in my life. In so many ways, I have already arrived at where I want to be. Trying to force something bigger or “better” just doesn’t fit right now.

So tonight I will waive farewell to a difficult, but ultimately triumphant, year. I’m going to continue to let the universe hold me- sliding down its slick current of peace and stability. I am not alone, I am not ailing, I am not suffering. All these things are everything I could ask for…and more.

Give ‘Em Hell

One Comment Add yours

  1. Louise Rowan says:



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