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.