I was someone I no longer recognized. For a moment, let us pretend that I've been able to pick myself out of a metaphorical line up. Whoever that was, I couldn't identify. This is a notion I've acknowledged for quite sometime, not that I wasn't sure of myself or who I was or what I could be capable of, but that who I KNEW I was and KNEW I could be was no longer fathomable. Though I'm not saying this for the sake of a storyline, it makes a decent one. For years I've written some semblance of an end-of-the-year reflection post or caption or Facebook status; SOMETHING that allowed me to reflect on the year and make sense of it all. This year I have very little memory of what could be recalled, for a plethora of reasons. For a moment this morning it wasn't a nagging feeling that I had to make something from nothing, but I felt what I've referenced to before as a spark and a puff of smoke: not quite an idea, but it could be. I decided that I'd put my four years of journaling every single day to good use and find moments I'd written about from each month that stood out as important and THAT would be my end of the year post. So that's what we're doing. Until I can get my bearings straight, dear friends, join me on this wonderful BuzzFeed-esque listicle journey as a recap of my 2019: the hardest year of my life, with no question about it.
1. January.
My year started with a health scare that left me shaken to my core. For the first time in my life, I had my first physical panic attack, leading me to believe I was having a heart attack. From that moment on, I vowed to take better care of myself. It only started physically, though I intended to be mentally and emotionally as well, but an increase in exercise ensued and I began to feel more comfortable in my skin once more. This month also marked the start of me wanting to begin a writing project that went further than a Tumblr blog. Nothing further than an outline came of it, but in making this plan I began to dissect more of my daily life, why we react the way we do to things going on in our world, the expectation of putting up with or fixing what is unfolding before us, etc. This has been put on the back burner. 2. February.
The extent of which I could push my creativity was still alive and well this month. In the past I've done concept photo shoots with one of my closest friends and they always come out with a product that leaves us wanting to keep taking photos and building on the ideas we already have. I decided to venture on this particular concept journey without her and took photos of Delaney and Kaceyann with the main concept being a visual for each one of the songs from Chase Atlantic's EP Don't Try This. There were very few photos that I were ecstatic about, but the main point of all of this is that I accomplished what I had set out to do and this seldom happens. To have a project to tend to start to finish and ACTUALLY be able to finish it, not solely getting excited about the planning and moving on, was such a satisfying feeling. 3. March.
Truly something. Truly when I knew something was not right. My birthday was this month and to celebrate, I had friends visit and smash some bottles with me. I was anxious and disassociated all weekend. Everything I said I dissected. Still to this day I reminisce on this weekend and feel guilty about it. In this time, I also saw With Confidence, Set It Off, and State Champs live. As if State Champs isn't enough of a natural high inducing task, we met Dale Earnhardt Jr. before the set even started. I spoke with him briefly about his book and the solace my mom found in it and went about our evening. It's December 31st as I'm writing this and I have yet to read his book. Sorry, Dale.
4. April.
I've done art all my life and quite often feel uncomfortable with the idea of putting a price on it. I do it because I enjoy it and it is a nice getaway from my brain, not to make a profit from it. In April I did a large commissioned piece for a mall in Charlotte as they began their LIVE360 program. It was simple lettering on the walls, but when all was said and done, this provided me with a level of accomplishment that I had never felt before. I'm truly still so thankful that I was given this opportunity and that I have friends that believe in my talents enough to recommend me for things like this. 5. May.
Sarah married Zack at the end of this month and I'm still grasping for the feeling I got in my chest while watching her dance with him during the reception. When I was younger I was an absolutely wretched hopeless romantic. The disgusting kind, you know? At some point in the ebbs and flows of my existence, that was lost in the move. On one of these days in May, I found myself sitting at a table with two of my best friends from my teen years, feeling like light was shooting out of my chest watching Sarah grin ear to ear on the dance floor. To have even been asked to stand next to her on this day was beyond words, but to really watch her flourish and become this person I was so excited to meet left me feeling hopeful. Hopeful that i'd find it myself, hopeful that this was in my future, hopeful that love was once again around every corner. 6. June.
This month my youngest siblings officially graduated from high school. Although having technically graduated 5 months prior, my pride never wavered. There was a stark difference between the previous graduations I had been a part of vs this one, mainly the amount of people and activities happening. I wish I would have made more of an effort to celebrate the both of them, though my head was reeling from having just received a phone call that Hayley was in an accident on the way to see us. In this event I managed to find a piece of calm. As the buzz of the energy of the house began to calm down, Ali and I found ourselves enveloped in conversation while sitting on the back patio. We talked in a slightly hushed tone while rain fell lightly around us, and for one second I found an ounce of peace and understanding. To have someone to speak with about anything and everything, no holds barred is truly something special and something to not be taken for granted.
7. July.
Undoubtedly the most trying time in my career and potentially my life. Leading into my store's biggest event of the year, I became interim manager. This is when I began to realize just how much of a work-a-holic I am and how much unrest I push to the side and distract myself from it with work. I realize this is where everything began to go downhill. While one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life, I'm thankful that I was given the opportunity for a few reasons. I'm thankful I took the position while I was still young and able to work as much as I did, I really understood what it takes to make a job your career, and most of all I learned the importance of setting boundaries based on what you can and WILL or won't do and sticking to them, even if the only reason is for your health.
8. August.
When I started this list, I wanted it to be a collection of memories that made me feel most alive and excited and worth something. The further into the calendar I got, the more I realized that a good chunk of what I retained from this year wasn't necessarily the memories made of positive light, but the ones that are made of the darker light. The hardest thing for me to understand was that the darker moments are what will, in the end, make you find or see the light at the end of the tunnel, but they aren't to be dwelled on in an even more negative light. What I came to to decide was that in my list, I wanted to reflect on what made me FEEL. As cliche as it sounds, being able to truly feel any sort of emotion has become such an oddity so it would be wrong to discount those moments, even if they're negative, for the sake of trying to paint my intent in a more positive light than I'm capable of. To put this bluntly: the moment I want to talk about for August is losing the dog that's been a part of our family for 14 or 15 years. Such white people shit, I know. I cannot express to you the kind of trauma (is there a thing called Trauma Lite? because it's not like stressful trauma, but the kind that I could sleep for days afterwards because of) I endured in coming home from a week long vacation to IMMEDIATELY have to go back out and put my dog down. He was the first passenger in my car and his last car ride was in my car. I was the one asking a lot of questions to the vet. I was the one piping up through tears and making comments to fill the silence. All because I didn't want to acknowledge that I HAD to cry. This was trying. I still refuse to listen to Good Things Fall Apart by Jon Bellion or The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert. Miss you, buddy.
9. September.
I'll never innocently listen to Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift ever again. Ali and Aaron got married in September and although I've known Ali since I was 17, I never thought I'd be one of her bridesmaids. Honestly, it had never even come up in conversation. But I undoubtedly said yes and it was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I can't say that I found the same feelings I did at Sarah's wedding, not that I should be comparing weddings in the first place, but what I did find was my hyper focus on a relationship as rich as Ali and Aaron's. This is a couple I look up to, this is a couple I trust, and this is a couple that, to me, has an ideal relationship. To witness this sort of thing first hand always puts a smile on my face. I'm so thankful I experienced this weekend. and I'm so thankful for both of them.
10. October.
I'm big on visuals. I'm big on visions. I'm big on envisioning. What I experienced this month was constant visions of my soul twitching, almost as if cramping, trying to fight something off. This was the month that I realized I was going through a transition and my body was getting the brunt of the effects. I left my job this month. I left with the intent of never going back. I left with the intent of taking time for myself. I left with the intent that I'd be far enough removed from what so viciously plagued me that I'd be able to wholeheartedly enjoy a 9 mile hike. I left with the intent of getting myself right, and that's what I did. I started going to therapy and was, for once, feeling like I was making progress on ridding myself of who I may have been and progressing to where I wanted to go and who I wanted to be. As a parting gift, the co-worker that took my leaving the hardest gave me a pin that reads "el amor nunca falla," which translates to Love Never Fails. I read it, read the translation, and began to cry. For once I felt I had made a difference somewhere, and a positive one. This was the start of wanting to find my loving and caring spirit again, but I knew I'd have to crack through the shell first
11. November.
I went back to work. Not at a new job, though I had experienced a few interviews, but the one I had left just three weeks prior. Where I was left feeling I had made a difference, I now began realizing that, given the circumstances, I could continue to help and make another transition easier on the people I left at the job, the ones I truly consider close friends now. It was going back and setting boundaries that made me realize how much control I can have over what I give to people and what I keep for myself. I made the decision to not let myself be completely available, in any facet, to anyone until I could be completely available for myself first. This month I also went to a football game with my dad, which left me feeling lighter on the heart. I was always so guilty that we never spent a lot of time together, so to go and enjoy this with him was a memory that I'll cherish. Two opposite ends of the spectrum. 12. December.
Present time. I wrestled with what it is I could talk about, because I've spent a lot of this month just doing things. As I said before, genuinely feeling an emotion is an unruly oddity these days, and though I'm Cindy Lou Who at heart, I found myself simply just looking at Christmas lights instead of enjoying them. I found myself responding with delight to things I didn't feel delight for. I went back and forth a lot with myself this month, from convincing myself to be graceful with the process I was having to go through to tearing apart every corner of my being in order to start from the ground up just because I was feeling reckless. When I finally decided what to talk about, it made sense that this would be the one thing that was worth speaking on. Fresh on the heels of starting antidepressants, I spent a weekend in Charlotte with Hayley and her family. We went to a Panthers game, walked through the NASCAR Hall of Fame, sat in Buffalo Wild Wings for three hours, ate at what has quickly developed potential to be my favorite restaurant in Charlotte, but all in all made me realize that being with the right people will make you feel that you being present is enough. I didn't feel like myself that weekend, I didn't feel anything that weekend, but to have multiple people express excitement that I was on a temporary journey with them did wonders for my spirit. It didn't matter whether or not I felt like I was having a great time, what mattered was that I was THERE. I showed up. And sometimes, especially in moments of uncertainty, showing up for anything can light a fire. Now I ponder what it is I hope for 2020. I don't intend to make resolutions, because I know the girl who sets them and she's full of shit. I hope to do right by myself and develop a patience I have yet to master. I hope all of this is putting me on the track to something great. I suppose most of all, I hope all of this wasn't for nothing.