When I first met you last January, I had everything under control. I’d reorganized my room, painted my nails, made new goals (that I promptly forgot), and done all the stupid little things that made me feel like a person who knew what she was doing.
But, inevitably, that couldn’t last.
There were days when I wasn’t sure I’d survive to see you out. There was mourning and health concerns and questionable decisions. There were big trips and equally big disappointments. But here I am. In the end, maybe we both won or we both lost, but all I know is that on January 1st you will be a memory – a crazy, stressful, painful, messy, beautiful memory – and I will walk on. Maybe I won’t be the same as I was when I met you, but I’m okay with that.
As much as you drove me crazy, 2014, you were also the year of unconventional beauty. I had amazing opportunities and I poured my heart into them. I danced thousands of miles from my home town – and, yeah, sure it wasn’t on a fancy stage and maybe there was a creepy, drunk, old Asian man filming me, but it was a moment I’d dreamed about and finally got to live. It was beautiful in its own way. It was also the year I danced in barn aisles with cancer patients and laughed until my sides hurt, which might have been even better. I learned what it means to suffer beautifully and the “art” of loss, neither of which feel very pretty. But thanks to you, 2014, I found an amazing community online who laughed with me and commiserated on the challenges of terrible teachers and life in general. They got me through it. I connected with people I hadn’t talked to for years or had never met at all. I found support from the strangest places and learned not to place too much reliance in others. I questioned myself a lot. Like a lot. I mean, I cleaned out everything I’ve ever written from the blog, and I’m just kind of praying to eventually come up with something better. (Don’t feel too smug, 2014. It will come. You haven’t defeated me.) But in the end, I got to the right track. I’m making things up as I go and loving the music it makes. I’m relearning how to breathe and rediscovering myself at the same time. I’m finding out that I have strength I never knew about, but that sometimes it’s okay to be weak, too. Sprinters, walkers, crawlers – they all make it to the finish line eventually.
Thanks for all the good and letting me grow through the bad.
Sayonara , 2014,
“And this too shall pass.”
“A new year is on the way and the possibilities are endless.”