This impossible year
As I write this to you, I am settled into bed, a fresh set of sheets beneath me. I have just showered, moisturized, and put on a face mask that I forgot I had and found in my bathroom while I was cleaning out my apartment. My husband is in the other room, spending (virtual) time with friends who are more than 3,000 miles away, all of whom he hasn’t seen since our wedding last year. His laughter occasionally filters in, warm and glad. I am contemplating a cup of tea, shortly.
Today, I am treating me like I love myself. It has been easy to find reasons not to, especially this year: not enough time, can’t be bothered to make a fuss, I don’t deserve it. 2020 has taught me lessons I could have happily spent the rest of my life never learning. But today, I am taking this pause; it’s a rare gift.
When I think about the past 12 months, there’s not much I can distinctly remember. Most of it is clouded over by a dull numbness, punctuated by periods of frantic stress and sharp, painful grief that kept me in a state of near-collapse for days.
Here’s what I can remember, what I choose to hold onto:
A crisp, February afternoon, basking in golden hour with my favorite person, before it all began.
Making homemade pizza from the grocery store flotsam and jetsam I managed to salvage in March.
The first warm, blue-skied day, watching the flowers burst into bloom, despite everything.
Melted ice cream, sharp shells and cuts on my feet, sunburnt forehead, the photos where I am warm and laughing again, just for a moment.
Climbing to the top of the world and eating toasted marshmallows for breakfast the next morning.
The autumn weekend I turned 25, and there were sunset colors everywhere I looked.
All the food I cooked with my own two hands in my tiny kitchen.
On the worst hours, days, weeks, it has been difficult to remember. It has been hard to force myself to let the light in. But I have done it anyway, again and again, because what else is left to do?
Whether the year drawing to a close and a new one rolling in brings you celebration, relief, hope, pain, mourning, too much or too little at once, I hope you treat you like you love yourself. Life is so, so short and we are all we have. Don’t wait to use your nice teacup or the skincare samples you’ve been hoarding in little plastic baggies. Eat what tastes and feels good (for me, it’s fresh fruit, steamed rice, a big bowl of soup). Wear your favorite perfume or cologne, just for you. Unfollow/mute all accounts that make you feel bad. Make your love for others known. Make sure that includes yourself.
I’m so glad you’re here with me. I’ll see you on the other side.
Housekeeping note:
I’m switching to Mailchimp for my newsletter platform, so keep an eye on your inbox for our regularly scheduled programming.
Bonus playlist:
Songs for the new year, short and bittersweet.