New Year, Old Me

Hello my friends, I yam back.

The other day, I was looking through my posts from the previous year. At first, I was disappointed, especially after looking at my last New Year’s post. It wasn’t so much that not much had changed but that I hadn’t achieved the things I wanted to.  I set out to make 2015 my year but that bitch was like HAHA SNOPE.  If anything, 2015 was shit. Shitty shit. I was unemployed, my brother was diagnosed with a mental illness, and it just seemed like my life had stagnated.

Yes, last year was all-around awful. So awful, in fact, that I ended up with shingles.  SHINGLES. Shingles.  SHINGLES, PEOPLE. Those who suffer from shingles are either elderly or immunocompromised or me.  I don’t show my stress – I internalize it and it manifests itself in really weird ways like hair loss, weight loss/gain, and SHINGLESSSSSS. Also, did I mention shingles?

You may have also noticed that I barely posted last year.  Some creative folk find inspiration in their depression.  Their art helps them cope; acting like therapy.  But I was already so emotionally spent, that the idea of sitting down and unpacking my thoughts seemed unbearable.  The last thing I needed was another task to add to my list.  And although I knew deep down writing would make me feel a lot better, I was in survival mode – time to sit down to write was a luxury I couldn’t afford.

I was also not a very good friend.  Being a good friend is something that’s very important to me – I try to be thoughtful, patient, considerate, reliable, and I’m inherently loyal to a fault.  It’s something I work at because I expect it in return.  But this past year, I was bad.  I didn’t return calls, avoided responding to texts, canceled last minute, and generally found interacting with people exhausting and not in a “Are You An Introvert?” Buzzfeed kinda way. I just couldn’t muster enthusiasm in other people’s lives which is pretty fucking shitty.  It didn’t go unnoticed either, by my friends or me.  I knew I wasn’t as present as I should have been and I gave myself the excuse that I would figure it out later.

And then, things got better.  It wasn’t so much a windfall but things slowly fell into place. Not without work. No, there was A LOT of hard work.  I applied to and interviewed for a million jobs, navigated the absolutely INSANE mental health system (no pun intended), kept our home in order like a good little house elf, and started a podcast.  It made me realize how important it is to keep chugging along even when there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel.  It made me realize that I was the light.  I just had to peel off the grit and grime that had accumulated through the year.

As I write this, I’m sitting in my apartment – MY APARTMENT WITH MY NAME OF THE LEASE – with a lasagna that I MADE FROM SCRATCH in the oven, thinking about whether I might go to gym (but probably definitely not) and a job that seems like fate. I feel like me again. And that’s what I hope for 2016 – that I become me again.


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