2017, goddamn. It’s the beginning, again, although lately you’ve felt little that is new. It feels rather as if this is something of a middle–the middle of what being the only question. If this were a book, we might be nearing climax, but still far from the resolution. The New Year really is nothing more than an arbitrary cusp of time created to break things down into small enough pieces that our little human minds can understand them, and yet somehow it still feels meaningful. Like the tone needs to be set, or the rest of the year will be a mess. Like life is, generally. A mess of options and decisions to be made, of relationships to be nurtured or set loose, of words to swallow and actions to take.
You’ve been feeling lost and unsure, and very much in need of some self-love. You’ve been focusing on the negative, on your proximity to failure, but you have so much to be thankful for, and so many things you’ve done look like a raging success to others who dream of doing what you’ve done–of living abroad, of traveling far and wide, of having the time and the freedom to create yourself in your own image. This woman whose creation is continually being molded by the world, by the people who love her, and by her very own will is beautiful and worthy and well-made. Remember what you’ve been given, and what you’ve earned for yourself. Try to see yourself as clearly as you can.
Regardless of your proximity to other people’s idea of failure, think of the things you’ve done this year. You’ve worked tirelessly to pay off your credit cards (so close, now). You joined a roller derby team, something you’ve dreamed of for years, putting you face to face with one of your biggest weaknesses–the reluctance to do things that you’re not good at. You even hurt yourself in your first practice, adding insult to injury. But once you healed, you went back. You didn’t give up. You didn’t tuck tail and pretend that you didn’t really care. Skating has lit a fire deep down inside you, in a place that has been dark for a while. Cherish that light. Build up the flames until it warms every inch of you. Even if you’re putting yourself in harm’s way. As you well know, injury can come even when we think we’re consummately safe, so do what feels right and good and true. As Charles Bukowski said, “Find what you love, and let it kill you.”
One thing that you’ve struggled with this year is fear and anxiety, in ways you never have before. You’re not a psychologist, but you know it has something to do with how you felt in Ecuador, how you felt when you were mugged, how you felt when men tried to take advantage of you, how you felt when you were, both literally and figuratively, pushed up against a wall without your consent. Don’t focus on that. Focus on what you did in response. Think of how you fought, with your words, with your body. Think of the strength you found within yourself. Even if you smiled and joked after, because you couldn’t admit what almost happened, because you thought that was the safest way out of the situation. Focus on the fact that nothing they did or said or implied dimmed your light even a shade. You burned only brighter. Still, never before have you been so reluctant to touch and be touched. Never before has the very idea of bodily proximity with another person caused you to physically and mentally retreat. But you’ve also never been as in tune with your body as you are now. Perhaps you need to heal and there’s nothing wrong with that. You have all the time in the world and, luckily, you already know that your relationship status has nothing to do with your value or worth. Even if you never wanted to be touched again, it would never make you any less than whole.
You are not failing. But part of you is waiting for your professional dreams to knock on your front door, for someone to recognize that your writing is worth publishing or that your voice is worth listening to or your experience worth sharing. Waiting will never make dreams manifest. You have to put in the work. You have to put yourself out there. You have to set yourself up only to be knocked down, and do this again and again and again and again. One day you will get there. One day you will find that job that makes your heart beat faster and the blood race through your body with passion as its fuel. But not if you don’t try. Not if you continue thinking that maybe you’re not capable of greatness, maybe you’re not as wonderful as those you love think you are. Try, try, try again, even if, in the end, all you have is evidence of effort. At least when you reach back into your past, it won’t be the strangled seedlings of desiccated hopes you hold in your hands.
In many ways, you have felt more vulnerable this year than you can remember feeling since high school. Vulnerability is good. Growth comes from such things. Love your vulnerability as you love that which is strong and confident in you. Don’t wait for inspiration. Dedicate time to your art, and be surprised by what you create. You don’t usually do resolutions, but here’s one: do something creative every day. Whether it’s working on your lettering, or writing (even if it’s just a sentence), or cooking, or dancing. If you’re creating something out of nothing, you’re succeeding.
Work to keep your heart open. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even if you boast the opposite. Only it’s not the heart of epic romance or fairy tales–or at least not the heart of the fair damsel. Your heart speaks of stormy seas and lonely woods, of paths with no end in sight, of fireplaces and books and star-spilled skies. It seeks no twin but rather the fulfillment of its own self. You shouldn’t want it any other way.
Maybe you’ll never have a lot of money. Maybe you’ll never live alone. Maybe you’ll never be able to stop making lists of what needs to be paid for, but also, maybe, you’ll be happy and secure and content in all the ways that matter. Maybe this empty, flat midland you feel yourself in now is just something that needs to be crossed in order to reach the magnificent future that awaits you just beyond the horizon. Keep moving forward, even if only in half-steps. Keep holding yourself up and allow others to hold you up when that feels too heavy a burden.
Do you know that you are loved?
I love you.
2 thoughts on “My Life Off the Road: Reflecting on 2016”
So much wisdom here.
“comfort is the killer of creativity” – David Choe
I don’t know how these words will sound, or how much of a message I can bring, but you’ve conjured something inside me that wanted to respond with as much care and love that I could.
It’s excellent, babe.
I’m glad to read your words and imagine you doing something creative, crazy, and fun. I’m glad you stuck with roller derby, and I remember how difficult it was for you to admit that you weren’t great at it. But look at you now.
I’m glad that you’re trying to be vulnerable and getting out of your comfort zone. It takes bravery to reveal yourself so openly. I’m already positive you’ll be fine.
I’m glad that you treat yourself with love and still manage to look fierce (and dead sexy, especially in that photo. DAYUM!)
And as I keep reading your posts I find that I must’ve not known you well enough, because I’m constantly surprised (in a good way, obviously) by the things you write and say.
And as hidden as I am (or was?) in your written life, I’m satisfied knowing that I was (or am?) a part of your life.
As you said, but not exactly in your words, the new year is a fake reset button. One we push with good intentions. And as long as you set those intentions, then you’re off to a good start. You can only go up from here.
You are loved.
Erick Giovanni Monrrigo