I didn’t get the black stallion I was hoping for this year. I tend to have high expectations I suppose. 2018 had its splashes of cherished moments in addition to downright depressing hidden gems. The sudden losses of very dear friends for one. Those were blows I was not prepared to experience and, screw you 2018 for giving me those moments. I’m no stranger to tragedy (have you read this site?), but this year’s tragedies were a vast array of empathetic reassurances that there is no explanation for the sheer magnitude of such occurrences nor through any fault of their own. It just sucks to have to go through it and you’ll be struggling with it for the rest of your life.

I think everyone was stressed the hell out this year. Frustrated and angry, there were a lot of opinions and entertaining thoughts on where we should or should not be, as a society and as a nation. I don’t think I’ve ever felt the weight of the world as I did this year. I didn’t like people before, but 2018 proved how much my contradictory persona could take. Humanity is a raw and evil sort of thing letting way to bursts of sunlight at any given moment which results in confusion and downright rage. I was deleted, blocked, called names, and asked to duel a few times this year, all for, having a valid belief that my truth is not your truth. On the other hand I learned some people I’ve known a majority of my life have some really skewed views of what they support. Speaking of ending relationships…my friend of 15+ years decided that she could no longer remain in our relationship and instead broke up with me on the grounds of…This is unknown at this time as to why our oh so dear friendship came to an abrupt end and was not worthy of any explanation whatsoever. Marriage, babies, narcissism…you know, the silent killers of friendships. It seems pointless to say, but it did open my eyes to how I expect to be treated in life. So, first there was the lack of closure that came with my ex husband and now once again, another uncommunicated shut down. Hmmm…is it me? Did I not give enough? I give too much, more than I should in a lot of instances. People are just weird.

For the first time in a really, wait, ever, I felt like I accomplished something. This little project being one of them. Nobody cares what I write or do or say or feel. I know this. The difference is, I don’t care anymore, it is my therapy, my cathartic medium to deal with my life that will hopefully help others in a relatable and true sense. It truly is the first time I’ve consistently followed through with my own idea, not someone else’s, but mine. What made my year was receiving some very heartfelt thanks yous and that was enough for me. To make another feel better or to move someone with words, that is my art. For the first time in my life I am proud. All the work I’ve done this year, I am proud of, and worked hard for, and it felt like I had just finished a marathon. A marathon I’ve been running for 45 years. What a fulfilling thing, right?

I promise to get to the good parts soon, but not yet, I have to finish through the hard layer first before I get to the chewy center where rainbows shoot out of the asses of babes. Reaching 45 was difficult. Harder than anything I’ve ever done, and with that came a dreadful revelation. I came to terms that my physical self is no longer twe—, I mean, thirty-five. No longer do I feel I can climb fences, dance the night away or have a slap boxing match without being completely winded in ten minutes. The white hair that has accompanied my raven locks is disorienting, and the extra pounds which make me cry on most days because what women doesn’t want to look hot in her skinny jeans, but instead replaces her lacy unmentionables with…COTTON!? It has affected me profoundly. One thing they don’t tell us women getting older is how terrifying it is, physically and mentally. How we don’t feel attractive, how I cannot look anyone remotely attractive in the eye, and how the thought of donning a bathing suit would suddenly feel absolutely horrifying. They don’t tell you of the anxiety, the insomnia, and what the discovery of cellulite does to a woman or that missing a period will make you feel absolutely regretful and sad. How forgetful one becomes as she frantically tries to locate the cell phone she is currently speaking on or wishing for her tiny boobs of 34Bs again instead of this, what is this blob coming out of the side of my bra. I know, I really shouldn’t care. I have a mister who loves me as I am, but ladies as we know they can tell us we are gorgeous all day long but in the end it only matters is we feel uncomfortable, and I know, boo hoo right? Get over it and be stronger right? I will eventually, I just don’t like it.

I suffered my first panic attack and god forbid, my last. I had no idea. For all those who suffer this on a constant basis, I am so very sorry. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced, to be in small out of town diner, while you sit across from your loved one. A regular morning waiting for a server who doesn’t come while you are reminiscing about the spectacular night you’ve had together, and then for no reason at all, it happens. As I sat there with cold hands and irregular heart beating, body feeling disconnected, I imagined how awful it is that I, ME, was going to die in this amazingly terrible diner amongst strangers. For about 30 minutes, I concluded that it would be as easy as that and I looked at him and thought, at least I was loved and had loved again.

It’s a odd spectrum of emotions when you lie in bed at night and what used to be something so easily attainable becomes a labyrinth of questionable moments in life.

Why did I have chocolate tonight? Why did that person not text me back? Am I ever in my life going to fucking be appreciated for the work I do? Why am I so very broke and why did I just spend $14.99 on an Adobe app? Does he still find me attractive? Why didn’t I have children? Was i supposed to have children? Do people think I’m stupid? Did I go over 1200 calories today? How could there have not been one single carton of 2% milk!? Shit, I forgot to buy saline solution again! I hope my parents don’t die soon, what if I die before them…

And it goes on and on throughout the night. So yeah, lots of things occurred in 2018 I’ve never experienced before. Thanks for the new adventures! I found very little to say in 2018, not in person at least. I’ve embraced my Aquarian aloofness this year. I disconnected like I’ve never done before and found myself in very little meaningful conversations in the outside world. It baffled me really. For the first time in my life verbal exchanges were challenging. I just couldn’t connect. It was as though someone had taken my speech and turned it into a whole new non-language causing me tongue tied instances of pure lack of eloquence and articulation…embarrassing. Are you wondering about the good parts?

2018 was transitional to say the least. We got out of a very small apartment with a devil of a landlady into a very beautiful house in a new neighborhood. I really fell in love with being home. This place feels like a haven and despite still looking at unpacked boxes and unfinished furniture, it has become a place to relax and entertain at my whim. I am now the proud owner of a fire pit and a grill! Who knew such small domestic luxuries could bring about such sweet comfort! I tried to buy a house this year which didn’t pan out as I wanted it, but sometimes there’s a bigger plan. In turn, I sold my first house as a real estate agent this year which brought me a feeling of accomplishment. I can do it! Yes I can! A motto that held little weight before. Small, but an endeavor I never thought I’d ever add to my repertoire. I often wonder if I’m just real comfortable doing then jobs at once.

Karaoke. The activity that I refused to do in any public place became commonplace in 2018. Somehow singing Concrete Blonde and Leslie Gore brought a silent release for me and just the sheer gathering of friends in these instances made me genuinely joyous. The fact that people wanted to spend time with me, strange as that may be, was the one thing I felt humanly connected to. I felt strangely isolated most days. I attended a wedding, reconnected with family, and watched a lot of soccer. Simple joys. I was involved in a study about race and gender, wrote about people I admire, and received notes of praise. I read stories at night, saw tons of music, and dreamt of distant lands. I ate delicious meals, watched tons of film, and dove into photography. I wrote words. I said goodbye to the past. I made amends. I attoned and forgave. I laughed harder than ever and I cried seldomly. I felt loved. It went quickly and I suppose as we age it goes by at lightning speed. I long for the days of long summers and spontaneous trips.

What will 2019 be? I can only hope for less death, less loneliness, less heaviness. I am wondering if I too have become nothing but 1s and 0s and perfectly angled moments. Who will reach out, if anyone, to say hello that isn’t summed up in an abbreviated expression. Will the “We need to hang out” become an actual instance of beverages and exchanges of laughable tales or will it be the continuous cycle of empty efforts spread across another year. There are no resolutions for me, there is just a continuous wanting to better the briefness of existence. I want to read more books, see more music, cry at art, take better pictures, write more stories, take more trips, share more experiences, find inspiration, and motivate to healthier habits and less sour cream and onion chips at midnight. I want to shoot bows and arrows, play more pool, and swim in the ocean. I want to see my nieces and nephew, take my mom someplace new, and visit my dad. We always have such high hopes in the beginning don’t we? The ending of one cycle, packed with memories in our virtual treasure box, and the rebirth and renewal of new ones. Isn’t that the beauty of it all? What will this new skin look like? What stories will I tell next…