It was the year I tried my utmost to survive.
It was the year I started my dream of being a birth doula in public health care.
It was the year I fell down—in a way that wasn’t pretty or cute.
It was the year I just plain hurt. Tears streamed down my face, my then blond hair was a mess, and I held a crumpled, broken heart.
It was the year I had so many panic attacks that I struggled to do things I used to think were simple, like running errands and meeting friends for drinks and going to Woolies Foods.
It was the year I couldn’t push down my shadows or pain or past traumas anymore, because I finally knew they would follow me absolutely everywhere.
It was the year I felt so much goddamn fear that I thought I’d never feel better.
It was the year I almost lost hope.
And yet, somehow, by some unknown magic, because even though it was the worst year of my life—it was also the best.
It was the year I learned I need to do it alone. And that I can do it alone!
It was the year I rose.
It was the year I fought for myself.
It was the year I surrendered.
It was the year I healed, although I am still healing—learning every day to hold my tenderest wounds with utmost care.
It was the year I met people who literally changed my life
It was the year my mask fell off, and I couldn’t put it back on.
This is the year I survived. Grew the business even more and got the opportunity to work with the most amazing industrial automation company.
This is the year I let things go. I learned that cleanliness is not next to godliness.
Thank you 2017- It has been real. It has been super hard. I am celebrating you in the garden with my kids under fairy lights eating popcorn and playing on the Mac. After a year I FINALLY figured the solar fairy lights out! 🙂