Tonight marks a new year, and it is time to think back through this last one, in all its glory and pain. From Superhero Journal, circa 2007, here is my yearly processing:
What do you want to acknowledge yourself for in regard to 2013?
What did you create? What challenges did you face with courage and strength? What promises did you keep to yourself? What brave choices did you make? What are you proud of?)
This year, I harnessed every tiny fragment of myself and fused them and pushed them out of my body in one great wrenching, terrifying evening. I floated away from myself and found the tiniest, sweetest separate human in my arms. Nothing I have ever done has been more important than this work.
I’ve fought for my marriage this year. When my instinct is to self-protect and defend and even hide, I’ve tried to show up and reach out my arms and be seen. This has been so hard and so humbling.
I’ve risked and I’ve softened and I’ve gotten up each morning and poured out of myself more deeply than I knew I could. I’ve also begun to come back around to look myself in the face, to ask what I need and who I am and what I value. I am showing up in my own life… not just for others, but for me.
I created new life. I created a stronger marriage. I faced disappointment and adjusted. I was torn into pieces and mended. I chose us instead of just me. I’m proud of the courage to love.
What is there to grieve for this year?
(What was disappointing? What was scary? What was hard? What can you forgive yourself for?)
This year, I grieve the loss of my solitude, of my ability to make my own decisions wildly and recklessly. I lost the ability to hop in my car (or on the train) and stop in a bookstore or a café or a nail salon and whip out my credit card. I lost the ability to sleep without care, to leave the apartment without burden.
This year, I grieve the loss of illusions. I lost my sweet naïve ideas about marriage and pregnancy and sex and even myself. Scales have fallen and I see my own selfishess and the way I conceal when I should speak. I see the stretch marks and fat deposits and the exhaustion and the long stretches between intimate moments and ecstasy.
Childbirth was terrifying.
Marriage was hard. Money was hard. Responsibility, follow-through, consistency, communication. All of this was hard.
I forgive myself for not being present in every small precious moment, for missing minutes and hours and days of this sacred year, for zoning out online and in my head rather than reaching for my husband’s hand or pulling my sweet girl close. I forgive myself for disappearing from my friendships and family and own heart, for being present in my body but disconnected.
What else do you need to say about the year to declare it complete?
2013, though you have been so very difficult, I am so sad to see you go. The precious first moments of looking in my daughter’s eyes, of stroking her face and pulling her close and feeling her tiny breath on my neck… these moments are gone. Please freeze some small bit of this time. Please do not fade out the way some years have. May the pain of birth and the joy of connection sear you unmistakably on my soul that I might pull you back up when I am old and weary. I will miss you.
My word for next year? Balance.
What about you?
