It's the third annual. Well, you didn't think a huge, amazing, life-changing event like having a kid was going to stop me, did you? Of course you didn't. You've met me.
As I look back on this year, there are so many things that went disastrously wrong. Seriously. Disasters. Make better choices, Manisha. Also, trust your gut; it's always right. Whether it's the way my family is supposed to grow, or the people I'm supposed to date, when to take the babe to the doctor, or what kind of ceiling fan I should put in my kitchen - my gut is probably right. Maybe in 2019 I can keep that at the front of my mind, and heart too.
I spent the first 45 days of this year prepping for a daughter I don't get to raise. Leaving North Carolina with harrowingly empty arms, I cursed everything; by everything, I mean people who literally have nothing to do with Kennedy. Pretty unproductive, but it turns out that's one of the things we do with grief. I think of Kennedy often, because you can't suddenly replace the person who profoundly shifted who you are. Max is the child I get to raise, and yet, Kennedy made me a parent. Only for 36 hours, mind you, but that sort of transformation doesn't simply vanish.
For all the traumatic parts of the year, there were equal and opposite moments of magnitude. The birth of my son. THE BIRTH OF MY SON. To be there, to witness his first breath, his first cry, his first bath, his first bottle, his first everything. The magnitude of that is something I could never had understood until it was happening. Then, there was that unbelievable moment when I realized that my son comes with an entire family I love. I don't have inlaws, but I have my son's family. A son, and a family that comes with him. What a world.
There were so many things, so many events, in 2018. Adoption disruption, a seriously toxic girlfriend when I had no business trying to date anyone anyway, weird reconciliations with an old partner, synchronistic confirmation to stay the course, lost and found rings (I'm still freaking out about the rings, OMG), the birth of the child I get to parent, a pretty traumatic car accident, busting out of my comfort zone only to find 9 AMAZING women who have become my Parent Tribe, the loss of the only stable and consistent living being I've ever known, and the loss of her favorite person, someone I have always loved, missed, and wondered about. It's a hard thing, you know, to lose a friend you haven't reconciled with. It is my greatest wish that Mark knew I love him deeply, his odd quirks, his quiet disposition, his haphazard clumsy, and infinitely genuine heart. I guess I'll never know if he did or not.
Events. What are they other than just these things that happen to us, because of us, in spite of us, often with no purpose? Well, if 2017 was my year of active decision-making, 2018 was simply an exercise in leaning in. It took all my guts, the broken pieces of my heart, a strong core, a metric fuckload of tears, and a hell of a lot of accepting the love that surrounds me. You know what it did to me? It humbled me. The droves of people, people I haven't spoken to in years, I've never known in person, and my best friends, who all found a moment, during any number of tragic events, to wish me well was simply overwhelming. You will never know what it means to me to receive notes, emails, texts, or voicemails from people asking for absolutely nothing. Messages to say "I love you and you don't have to respond." And you know what? I did not respond. I couldn't. I didn't have it in it me, but you did it anyway. Many of you said "I love you and you don't have to respond" again, and again. What a gift that you watched me lean in so fiercely, but left me to do it on my own. The love you've shown me, without expecting anything back, not even an acknowledgment, is something that has profoundly changed me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
As is tradition, I'll build my fire today, and let it burn away all the parts of this year that will not serve me. I will *attempt* to let go of the toxic, the wavering about Haylie, the concern that Mark didn't know how I felt. I will make peace with the loss of someone who wasn't mine to begin with, even if she fundamentally changed me. I will watch the angry words burn away, and ask for the patience and peace to truly forgive the people who said them. What's left, as we all know, is ashes, and on their foundation, is all the potential for what 2019 could bring.
My profound wish for all of us is the following:
Happy New Year, my friends, and best wishes as we move into another year.
As I look back on this year, there are so many things that went disastrously wrong. Seriously. Disasters. Make better choices, Manisha. Also, trust your gut; it's always right. Whether it's the way my family is supposed to grow, or the people I'm supposed to date, when to take the babe to the doctor, or what kind of ceiling fan I should put in my kitchen - my gut is probably right. Maybe in 2019 I can keep that at the front of my mind, and heart too.
I spent the first 45 days of this year prepping for a daughter I don't get to raise. Leaving North Carolina with harrowingly empty arms, I cursed everything; by everything, I mean people who literally have nothing to do with Kennedy. Pretty unproductive, but it turns out that's one of the things we do with grief. I think of Kennedy often, because you can't suddenly replace the person who profoundly shifted who you are. Max is the child I get to raise, and yet, Kennedy made me a parent. Only for 36 hours, mind you, but that sort of transformation doesn't simply vanish.
For all the traumatic parts of the year, there were equal and opposite moments of magnitude. The birth of my son. THE BIRTH OF MY SON. To be there, to witness his first breath, his first cry, his first bath, his first bottle, his first everything. The magnitude of that is something I could never had understood until it was happening. Then, there was that unbelievable moment when I realized that my son comes with an entire family I love. I don't have inlaws, but I have my son's family. A son, and a family that comes with him. What a world.
Events. What are they other than just these things that happen to us, because of us, in spite of us, often with no purpose? Well, if 2017 was my year of active decision-making, 2018 was simply an exercise in leaning in. It took all my guts, the broken pieces of my heart, a strong core, a metric fuckload of tears, and a hell of a lot of accepting the love that surrounds me. You know what it did to me? It humbled me. The droves of people, people I haven't spoken to in years, I've never known in person, and my best friends, who all found a moment, during any number of tragic events, to wish me well was simply overwhelming. You will never know what it means to me to receive notes, emails, texts, or voicemails from people asking for absolutely nothing. Messages to say "I love you and you don't have to respond." And you know what? I did not respond. I couldn't. I didn't have it in it me, but you did it anyway. Many of you said "I love you and you don't have to respond" again, and again. What a gift that you watched me lean in so fiercely, but left me to do it on my own. The love you've shown me, without expecting anything back, not even an acknowledgment, is something that has profoundly changed me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.
As is tradition, I'll build my fire today, and let it burn away all the parts of this year that will not serve me. I will *attempt* to let go of the toxic, the wavering about Haylie, the concern that Mark didn't know how I felt. I will make peace with the loss of someone who wasn't mine to begin with, even if she fundamentally changed me. I will watch the angry words burn away, and ask for the patience and peace to truly forgive the people who said them. What's left, as we all know, is ashes, and on their foundation, is all the potential for what 2019 could bring.
My profound wish for all of us is the following:
May we find the tenacity inside of us to rise above the hurt, the anger, and The Events;
May we lean into the hard things, and support our people while they do the same;
May we find deep peace in the knowledge that things will change and we should expect to be tested and challenged, and perhaps we don't have to learn anything at all from it;
May we rest when we are weary, but perhaps prioritize it before we have drained ourselves;
No matter how lost, scared, or devastated we are, may we find the guts to be who we are;
Eventually, this too will pass.
Happy New Year, my friends, and best wishes as we move into another year.
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