I haven’t been updating my blog. I feel like it gets to this time of year, and this automatically happens, because I get the holiday blues. I’ve been on this Earth for 32 years and I still haven’t completely figured out why – the reasons seem to change with the years, even if one thing remains constant, which is the disconnectedness of my family. But this isn’t really about that.
I know I’m not the only one who feels like this has been the longest year in recorded history. I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved to see an end to a year like I am about this one. And for me personally, this has been especially long because I have been fully present for the whole year; not in a depression haze or childhood memory spiral, but fully just here, experiencing every bit of pain, confusion and displacement.
I did things this year, many things, and there were also lots of things I didn’t get to do. I didn’t get back to Melbourne, which to be honest, I didn’t really expect to happen – though I hoped by now I would have an indication that it could happen in the near future.
I also didn’t fall in love, or find my bliss or experience the joy I felt during most of 2017 and the first two months of 2018. The love thing, I had little to no expectation for, although I did brush with the possibility of it, but that was quickly snatched away by my lack of luck in love; apparently I forgot about that. Sad times for me, I’ll know better for next time.
I also lost friends. Not in a RIP kind of way (thank goodness), but definitely in a ‘Oh we don’t vibe anymore because I know myself a bit better and actually, you’re not that great of a friend as it turns out’ kind of way. Some of them I still have a loose thread of a connection with, but I foresee it snapping soon enough. I’ve learnt a lot about friendship this year too, about how it’s good to surround yourself with people who make you feel good not bad, who don’t constantly question your identity, and who you feel you can be your fully authentic self with. I can count on one hand who those people are in my life now, and I’m okay with that.
Also writing. I’m having a tumultuous relationship with it right now; wondering if maybe I’ll be published by the time I’m 40, or not at all, dying a lonely project manager in a rented flat I can never buy. Okay, I am being dramatic but bits of that are definitely true. I think as is usually the way at the end of the year, I am mentally and emotionally winding down, looking back at the year and all the energy I expended on things I really cared about, but now cannot muster enough gumption to keep going with. I’m not sure ‘gumption’ is something you can in fact muster, but let’s pretend that it is.
And I came close to losing the light in my eyes. It’s a thing I found in my year abroad, when I lived a little freer as a happy-go-lucky person; it was almost annoying. Almost. I was afraid when I returned home that it would dim, and London has done its best to stamp it out completely. But then recently, I met someone that left me excited and sort of reignited that light again, reminding me that I was this better version of myself now, that I hadn’t strayed too far away, and that I was no longer pretending to be someone I’m not. So obviously that ended as quickly as it started (see: unlucky in love above), but it was a reminder at least. The hangover from that though, is not helping my end of year descent.
So this is the real, real. My real thoughts, today at least, unedited. I just wanted to reflect; in the hopes that it might spark some truth in me that keeps me powering through until this not-great year is over.
It’s not meant to be sad or negative; it just is.
Image credit: Sitting by Lluisa Iborra from the Noun Project