2017 was a year of change for me. Stupid, overwhelming, indifferent and yet, somehow, cruel change. This may seem to be taking things a little personally, but hey, life is a personal thing. By all accounts, then, I personally failed last year. *cue shame bell*
tolling...tolling...
...
yet, somehow, I feel okay.
Don't get me wrong, with the double-handed-axe-to-the-chest whammy that was 2017's end, I'm hurt, sad, and a little lost. Tears and bouts of wall-staring aren't unheard of. That half-weight, half-pit in my chest is taking up residence again.
But even if last year was an objective measure of failure, I remember the failures of my youth. Those failures were heavier. More burdensome. I can barely grasp, like fog curling back against the morning, the pain that accompanied my first real heartbreak, my first rejection letters and, embarrassingly, my first c on a test. The past was harder. Infinitely harder. But how? Given the accounting of the last year, I really shouldn't be standing.
In summation:
- Jan: marathon job search
- Feb: death
- Mar: start new job
- Apr: job is 2.5 hours away, each way
- May: 1/3 company cut, including me
- May: breakup
- Jun: get back together
- Jun: sister road trip
- July: eviction
- Aug: move-in with boyfriend
- Sep: burning man
- Oct: school
- Nov: grad school prospects drop
- Dec: true breakup
I've come out the other end of the year with no job, no prospects. Yet somehow I feel far more sure-footed than in the past.
Maybe it's foolhardiness. Maybe maturity. I can't tell, but if perspective can help, then, I hope, so can better recordkeeping.
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Let's see what you've got, 2018.
*wondering about the post title? tune in tomorrow.