I’ve never been one to reflect on years at their end. Everything seemed to blur together for so long that the end of one year and beginning of another felt entirely indistinguishable. This year, however, was one of growth, grief, gratefulness, hurt, happiness, fear. It was, to say the least, memorable.
At the start of 2021, I lived in a different town, in a different apartment, with a different job. In January I had a medical procedure coming up that I was unbearably nervous for. The world was still in shambles from the pandemic (that much hasn’t changed, however). A new presidency was upon us (not that that’s changed much, either). I was lost, scared, and unsure of myself.
February and March brought hope, excitement, word of a move to an apartment closer to where I wanted to be. Late March offered me the first shot of the COVID-19 vaccine, and I remember that feeling of thinking this would all be over soon.
April was one of the most difficult months of the year. Moving into an apartment that had problems hidden away and exceptionally greedy landlords, I was left feeling empty and powerless. It was one of the first times in my entire life I felt that I truly lost control. It was when I finally broke down, and realized I needed professional help. I also began to find solace in books, reading a habit I had left in my childhood, only recently allowing myself the grace and permission to indulge in it again.
In May, things felt brighter. The promise of an early lease end and a new apartment nestled in the hilltowns. May felt like being able to breathe again. The weather was warm, a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and it felt good and exciting to be alive again.
June brought warm weather, afternoons at the river, strawberry picking. June felt hopeful and made me feel that the future was full of promise. With July came an engagement, with my mother’s diamond, in a place that meant the absolute world to me. To be able to connect and share my life with such an incredible person felt like a special privilege and honor. Sharing in the joy of my family and friends only made it that much sweeter.
August began heavy in my grief, after cleaning out my father’s house and finding memories of my mother I never knew existed. This moment was when I first allowed myself to grieve, to really grieve, not the way I was instructed to as a child. I let the pain and heartache and unfairness of it all flow through me again, allowed myself to process it. I don’t anticipate these cycles of grief ever going away, but I wouldn’t want them to, nor do I feel unequipped to handle them anymore.
September took me on a trip to one of my favorite places with two of my favorite people. Three days and two nights of camping on the earth, waking to the calls of crows, sitting by the vast ocean. Enjoying the realization that we would be getting married in this very place in exactly one year.
October brought a new job, one filled with changes that I wasn’t expecting. The stress of the change rang my heartbeat in my ears for a full week, until I thought I might be dying. Slowly I acclimated, made peace with the change, didn’t spend too much time beating myself up for feeling weak, and moved forward.
November was filled with time with friends, weekend trips away, and a beautiful Thanksgiving with some of the most important people in my life. December was time outside, trekking through the snowy woods. Repeating old traditions and starting new ones. Seeing family and feeling grateful. December brought the diagnosis of a minor heart condition that will be with me for the rest of my life. The entire year prior brought me the strength and resolve to not let that overtake my life.
Each of these days, weeks, and months, brought me closer to the people I love. It taught me that I need to show up for others if I want them to have a place in my life. I created new relationships, revived old ones, fostered and nurtured my existing ones. I allowed myself to feel important to people, to be loved, to be cared for, to reach out when I needed support without feeling like a burden.
I felt stronger in my identity, more secure in my sense of self. I committed to working on not letting people walk all over me, to not being a people pleaser for the sake of keeping the peace. I allowed myself to feel my emotions instead of drowning them out with Jack Daniels or distractions. I woke up in the morning and exercised, strengthening my body and healing my mind.
I used to resent the instability of my twenties, the way I could never predict what would come next. But I’ve found it to be comforting, in a way, not knowing where I’ll be in just another twelve months. Where I’ll live, what I’ll be doing, who I’ll be surrounded by. I can genuinely say that I have absolutely no idea what the answers to those questions are, but for the first time in my life, that isn’t scary — it’s exciting.