The Year That Was
~OR~
What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You a Far More Easy-Going Person
* * *
2014 was the year I stopped feeling homesick. The year I ran my first marathon and fell in love with Japan.
The year my best friend rushed home from work to spoon me on her couch while I fell apart, crying in her exhausted arms.
The year I was held together by so many, from so far, in so may ways that it is unbe-fucking-lievable.
The year I learned you can’t always reciprocate, you just have to pay it forward, and be better than you were. Sometimes you have to live the “thank you” or “I’m sorry,” because saying it isn’t enough.
The year I was brave enough to say no, not ready, not yet (even if later I wailed and wished I’d said yes).
The year I got dumped, for the first time in my life.
The year I realized that I had a choice, about whether to fall apart or not.
The year I flushed a fistful of pills down the toilet, breaking plans for a very dark date with myself.
The year I tried head meds, saved my own life, and then stopped them, quit counseling, and followed my own advice.
The year I realized that I know better than anyone else, when it comes to my own life.
The year I started making my own damn decisions, without endless debate or consultation.
The year I held my own hand, small in my bed, and knew that it was enough.
I almost didn’t make it through 2014. I had to learn to live for others first, then for my own self second. If I could say one thing to the whole wide world, I would say: it’s okay. Everyone is doing their best.
I want to dedicate 2014 to all of my many many loves, but especially to these people, for these reasons:
To Erin, for bringing me a cookie and sitting with me while I hid in a stairwell at work and cried.
To my mom, for patiently having the same conversation with me, over and over.
To my dad, for being my soulmate, and my friend.
To Scott, who talked me down off of a couple ledges, even if he didn’t know it at the time.
To the folks at Tokyo English Life Line, for obvious reasons.
To Daniel, who told me his story, bought me pizza, and helped me plan a trip that I didn’t take.
To Nicole, who gave me a book like a friend, when I needed exactly that.
To Eric and Izzy, who shared their bed with me and rubbed my shoulders until I fell asleep.
To Granny, for telling me it wasn’t so bad, that we all have to kiss a few frogs.
To Gramps, for the necklace I wore like an amulet, a charm to protect against evils.
To Paul, and Felix, and Cha and Kobe, for reminding me that I could make friends.
To Nami, for putting it simply; to Nozomi, for Halloween.
To Espy, for the letters; to Griggs, for the laughs; to Sperry, for the pep-talk; to Sydney, for the sunshine; to Havilah for the flowers; to Melissa for listening; to Nikki, for trying to understand; and to Natalie, for fighting with me and still loving me, even after I threw a temper tantrum.
To Sammy, for making time to see me and create the world’s saltiest nachos.
To Kendra, for that time by the pool.
To Kristin, who stopped me in my tracks, made me repeat myself, when I said: “I stopped writing in my diary, because I couldn’t write without hearing that voice, judging what I said.”
To Darcie, who gave me a new diary.
To Kasey and Rosie and Sydney and Carol, for being brave enough to tell the truth.
To Manu, who sat with me at my hollowest moment, and knew that I would get better.
To Marcos, for a well-timed hug.
To Nanako, for being just like me, and for all of the smiles and food.
To Adrienne and Luca, my divoster parents. You bore the brunt of this.
To Cammi, for being proud of me, because I followed my heart, and “aint nothing wrong with that”
To Adam, for giving me back to myself.
To Melanie, for giving me permission to move on.
To Betsy, for the SkyMiles (!), but also for listening and sharing and wishing me the best.
And to Whitney, for everything, for giving me everything you had, and then giving some more.
To everyone who sat with me, when I was a husk of myself, thin and brittle and shaking and dull—for listening, for waiting, for explaining, for understanding, for that quiet small space where there was nothing to say, where you held me tight as the waves crashed overhead. Thank you for letting your hearts break open a bit, just for me.
2014 was a hell of a year; you made it unforgettable.
And 2015?
Oh, my friends.
My friends!
2015 is The Year of Fuck Yes
little sarah Big World 