What do we get from failed relationships? Pt. 1

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. 

----

Let's see what you've got, 2018. 



*wondering about the post title? tune in tomorrow.


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