The end of every year shows Twitter in a flurry of activities: people tweeting about the things they’re grateful for; about things they wish they had done, or done better; about lessons they learned or lessons they wish they were taught. On my part, I decided to go on a sharing spree about the good things that happened to me in 2016 for every like my tweet would get.
I could not, in all honesty, think of anything else beyond 15.
It’s been a tough year, that’s for sure. I had to resort to looking at this blog, and Instagram, and my Facebook posts to see how this year stood out in the good ways, but all I saw was how I struggled to get through it. At the start of the year, I told myself I would take care of myself more, but many moments I have found myself sitting on the filthy floors of dingy bathrooms, telling myself to breathe and silently whispering to myself to not throw up. At the start of the year, I told myself I’d read more, go out more, be more comfortable with being in my own skin, write more, love more, listen to more music, talk to more people, learn from them; and I did, but I also had more days of sitting in silence, of wondering why I do what I do, of crying and getting drunk on cheap wine with the sun still up, of getting lost, or missing my flights (and having to pay for new tickets on the spot).
This year saw me going out into the streets, fighting for this country. It saw me crying in front of people as I angrily raised banners signifying my wrath at the possibility of having our freedom stripped away, our rights stepped on, our collective histories erased. And so while this year made me question why I do what I do, it also, in a very special way, in a kind that’s experienced only when one steps out into the world, it told me exactly why.
This year told me to breathe, and to acknowledge my feelings. To realise that people can leave, but they can also choose to stay, and that when people become toxic, it is not a dishonour to yourself to say good bye. This year taught me to understand that things get better, and that things need time. Rushing into things can turn things into catastrophe, I’ve learned, but take too much time, and you might miss out on chances.
This year taught me that I was capable of love, in so many ways. That loving more people did not diminish my love for those who already had spaces in my heart; and if any, that loving leads to more loving, to more loving, to more loving.
That at day’s end, and when things go south, this year taught me that there will always be people to see you through. Who will believe when you have chosen to forget.
And often, as always, that will be enough. (So maybe, 15 wasn’t so bad after all.)
Happy new year. Here’s to a better year ahead.
Of perpetual finds 