If one were documenting my personal outside achievements, they’d have very little to record for the last 12 months of my life. I hold the same position at work I did one year ago. I’m in the same relationship. My living situation has gone unchanged for the most part. My physical health has not much varied, with the exception of some very minor improvements thanks to a few medical professionals. For many people, this description matches the majority of average years of their lives. For me, the absence of any large physical life changes for an entire year is an anomaly.
Substantial transitions did occur within my heart and mind, however. In the last year, I’ve pushed myself to engage with many untouched intimate memories and traumas, forcing my mind to process them to understand and free myself from their lethal grip. I stopped licking the wounds of past hurts and instead applied the learnt lessons toward actively pursuing a life and surroundings I could be at peace with. I closed the door on relationships which no longer served my purpose of light and love. I opened myself up to new inspirations I had never before allowed to collide with my personal drive. I rekindled the flames of passions I’d let fade. I lucidly marched, waltzed, and glided over the previously unexplored territories of my soul until the furthest corners were laid bare.
Since I was a young girl, I’ve always given myself timelines, no, deadlines really. When I recognize inside myself a fault or flaw, a vengeance I’m unwilling to absolve, or a bitterness I refuse to exonerate, I give myself a certain amount of time to deal with it before I must let it go and move on. Three hundred and sixty-five days ago I told myself I had one year to face the demons I was sheltering. I insisted with myself to begin down the path of relinquishing the monumentally weighted agony I’ve been carrying and find a new place to start.
It’s scary and daunting, getting older. With each year that passes, I recognize how little I’ve done. Each birthday marks a milestone of an achievement of mere survival, which, I admit, is not always such a simple feat, but it also serves as a reminder of how little time there is to do all the things worth doing in this current existence.
This past year, I did not let myself down. In the last 12 months, I’ve looked back on my youth and my foundation and I began the complicated work of facing and forgiving myself.
I have not yet completed the journey into my soul and the past that haunts it, but I’ve begun the task of starting anew, creating a sturdier, more intentional infrastructure for which to build my life upon. Better than a promotion, a new commitment, or a considerable difference in the external world, is the discovery of your self-acceptance, central peace, and internal truths.
What a colossally successful year it’s been. Now, I’ll depart to celebrate with some sinfully delicious cake before gazing into the blinding rays of the future.