New Year
December 29, 2015, 2:50 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Dear 2015,

I did my best with you.

I searched for joy wherever I could–

We took our Tiny Human to Disney World for the first time.

I traveled to the mountains and viewed America’s biggest mansion twice and imagined I was living in Downton Abbey.

I put my writing out into the world on a larger scale, and to my palpable shock, the world took it.

I was brave.

I endured a handful of different kinds of medications, all doing terrible things to my body.

I overcame suicidal thoughts. Repeatedly.

I dealt with the absence of my husband due to his horrific work schedule near the end of the year. My Tiny Human and I clung to one another and searched for joy together. We found it–in early morning cuddle sessions, in grocery store, in the airport as we traveled for Christmas by ourselves. I taught my 5 year old to find the joy.

It’s not hard for a 5 year old to find joy. It’s a lot harder for a 31 year old. I can tell you that much.

I had a hard time with Christmas this year–with the whole business of it. I didn’t put up many decorations. I bought gifts that didn’t seem to excite many people. I didn’t get that magical, emotional feeling in my gut when I saw lights or heard songs or ate cookies.

I have many resolutions for next year, as every person living with a mental disorder, I’m sure. Be happy. Be brave. Keep swimming. Keep writing. Think bigger. Be better.

But, my silly and non-important resolution is to make next Christmas magical; to go over the top. The tree will be perfect. The house will be full of lights. We will ride a Christmas train. We will make 37 different kinds of cookies. The gifts will be perfect. My Tiny Human will feel the magic of Christmas, for once. The magic that I felt when I was growing up.

So, 2016.

I see you. You will probably be hard, as 2015 was.

As 2014 was.

But I am going to continue to be brave and clever and well spoken. I am going to branch out and write about new things.

I may even give podcasts or vlogging a try.

I am going to continue to stick my freakishly long neck out and see what happens. That is the only way to find joy, you know.

It doesn’t just happen. You have to look around for it. Under rocks, behind closed doors, across the street. Sometimes the thought of achieving what I want to do with my life seems like the long walk to Mordor.

But, I mean, I am basically a hobbit. I can do this, right? I can do all of these things.

I can do hard things, and so can you.

Happy New Year.


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