January 1, 2015

It's 2015.

I should probably write something profound. That's what people do in the New Year, right?

Here's my best shot at it. Fuelled by rum and gin and crepes:

2014 was the year I left my safe-yet-unhealthy 4+ year relationship.

It destroyed me. It still destroys me.

Last night I deleted the only video of him that I still had on my phone. I hadn't watched it in months, and seeing that face, hearing that voice tore me apart on the inside. I took it on the last "good weekend" we had before things started to really unravel and seeing and hearing, seeing that face, that voice using our silly couple-language, tore me apart.

But it was time to let go.

It was time to let go of my idea of that person. It was time to let go of the idea of the man that I was with, the idea of the man that I wanted him to be.

But that's how I want to remember him. I don't want to remember him as the person that he is, now. 

The person who couldn't handle the breakup; the person who made people choose between he and I; the person who slandered me to anyone who would listen; the person who harassed me for months.

I saw an awful, dirty side of him that I wish I could forget.

Breaking up is a dirty business and I don't recommend it to anyone.

But sometimes it has to be done.

Last night I decided to start letting go of the idea of the person that I once loved. It was tragic and awful and I could only do it with an empty glass in my hand because sometimes we need that push to do what's right.

It was right and it was hard and it was terrible.

2014 was the year I got fired from my first out-of-university job.

I was hired after a summer of floundering around trying to find work and I loved it. It was amazing, interesting, exciting, and stressful as hell. I used to have dreams about work. I dreamt about writing reports, pricing out items, walking around the giant building that they rent in The Exchange District.

But I wasn't trained properly.

I had a manager who was largely absent. I was the 4th person to hold that position in a year and a half, which speaks volumes.

When I was let go, it was without any notice and without any feedback.

It devastated me. I didn't know what to do with myself.

But I moved on. 

I found promise in a new job and, more importantly, in freelance work that has taught me more than being a "go-fer" at a larger company could ever have.

I started to look at my career path as something that I can shape to what I want, and not just climbing a corporate ladder somewhere.

It was liberating. It was terrifying. It was... amazing.

2014 was the year when I stopped partying so damn much.

Weekends wasted, talking about nothing of importance with people who forgot my words because they were equally as out of it and equally as uninvested in our conversation.

I guess everyone goes through a phase where they party, but I'm glad to be out of mine.

At least of the two-day-extravaganza variety.

Whew.

2014 was the year I fell in love, again.

But not that shitty half-assed love.

The kind of love that consumes you and eats you up and spits you out.

The kind where you wake up and think "holy shit I get to wake up next to and hold and talk to and fuck this person right here"

And you do. And every day is amazing. Even the shitty, awful, retched ones where you can't agree and cast dark glances over the top of yr keyboard. even those days.

I've never had that before.

I've never been consumed by something this way and I'm at the point where I'm honestly scared to talk about these things online, even, because aren't you not supposed to? Aren't writers only supposed to talk about heartbreak and meaningless sex and failed love?

Maybe, but then that doesn't make me much of a writer, does it?

Which brings me to my next point:

2014 was the year I wrote.

I scribble ideas everywhere.

I write poems, haikus, letters, blog posts, everything.

The words fall out of me and I can't stop them. I've never felt so overwhelmed with words and thoughts and messy, outrageous ideas.

This is the year that I've accepted myself as a writer. I used to be scared of my words. Of their permanence, that they might expose something of myself that I might one day want to forget.

But I'm not afraid of it anymore. It sounds crazy, but it's true.

Words define us. They make us who we are and, if we let them, expose the deepest depths of our souls. 

I don't want to run from that anymore.

I'm not scared of who I am.

So that's my 2014.

I could go into more detail. I gardened, I attended festivals, I met new people, formed new friendships, and learned so much. 

But these are the few points that I think really matter.

To me, and maybe to you.

Here's to last year: the totally transformative 2014. 

Here's to next year: may be it beautiful, bombastic, and may it move you and teach you things about yourself that you never knew. 

xo

yr girl Shaner