Obligatory New Year’s Word Rambling Post
I wasn’t going to do one of these. I really wasn’t. Pinkie swear.
Then, not long ago, I was sipping my first coffee of the New Year, quietly letting my mind wander, stream of consciousness, from subject to subject, and something profound struck me about 2022. That realization made me understand something vital about 2023.
2022 is the year I learned that I wanted to live.
It’s something I’ve struggled with throughout my life for as long as I can remember. 2022 was the year that changed. On May 5th, 2022, I got my semi-colon tattoo. I got it because I realized I was ready to get it. I finally grew internally into the force of my personality that I always projected externally. Kind of a “fake it til you make it” kind of thing.
It took 50 years for me to reach this point. I’m here. I like it here. I’m going to make the most of being here.
So that was 2022.
2023 is the year I start practicing what it is to live. And to love. And I’m not talking romantic love. Just love. I’m talking a Zorba the Greek, Gomez Adams, Calvin (from the comic strip), and Miss Megan kind of love for epic moments, great and small, that fill the world. I will strive for zest, zeal, kindness (different from niceness), and curiosity. That’s not to say I won’t have bad moments and that I won’t feel sorrow, pain, grief, or loss. I still have cPTSD and BPD. The depression is still lurking in the shadows of my psyche. I can’t escape those. But I can recognize those, and I have a whole army of good pals that I can check in with to make sure when I’m feeling down, that it’s a justified down and not blown out of proportion by my trauma. I’ve managed the dark stuff in the past. I’m even better at it now, especially with support.
All things considered, 2022 was pretty epic for me.
2023… I’m coming for you. And… I’m bringing the Gallowglas Army with me.
