As usual, the end of year dilemma starts: do I write another year’s recap or not? After all, I decided to “give up” writing. However, I found myself computing how many days I’ve lived. It’s funny — or maybe just a (bad?) habit I have. I keep on telling myself I’d give up on something (or someone) important but find myself coming back, not being able to let go.
I’d deviate from the usual detailing of each month. 2014 was my most stable year in the sense that I started and ended it with the same people, anyway. It’d be useless to recall what happened since really, writing everything would be tiring but more so painful. So instead of recalling memories, I’d recall learning. Isn’t that what we always want a new year for? To have another chance to set things straight?
Some nights ago, my boyfriend asked me how I think 2014 went. I remember 364 days ago, I told him we’d conquer the coming year. Was it the case? I really can’t give a definite answer. It was a year of ups and downs, of finding oneself, of acceptance, of struggles, of forgiveness and trying to forgive, of losing someone you love and moving on. It was a year that tested how tough I was, how far I could bend before I break. But more so, it tested that if I break, how fast was it for me to piece back together.
Is a new year necessary to start again? I still have a lot of bad things to let go and accept. But let me suppress the negativity for a while and then go back to dysthymia some other time.
January taught me how much pain I could bear, how many times I could shatter. It taught me pride won’t get a person anywhere. It taught me to chase what matters. It taught me not to give up. January taught me what sisterhood, brotherhood, and friendship really meant. Most importantly, it taught me that acceptance isn’t as easy as it seems — that acceptance is a struggle. And that perhaps, until now, I haven’t fully accepted things.
On the second month, I learned that expectations are okay. It’s okay to be disappointed. It’s fine to express how disappointed you were because of your expectation. And not all the time, expectation would lead to disappointment. Some things just turn out better. You just have to give it a chance.
I learned how to trust. And how to have my trust broken. I learned how being oblivious of what hurts doesn’t work. That shit would just resurface. I learned how to deal with things I’ve longed to do. Just muster your courage and then do it. Don’t overthink. Just do what the fuck you need to do.
I learned, or rather felt pain. And I found out whom to rely on when my world was falling apart. I learned that not everything you knew when you were a kid was true. I learned to live with discomfort, to forgive, to give chances, and to accept some things you no longer have control of. I understood what role I had. And that running away from my problems won’t do me any good. It just tires the hell out of me.
This year, I got to know what boredom really is and that separation anxiety kills. I got to discover myself and the people around me. That we’re all wearing masks, trying so hard to conceal ourselves.
I learned to take chances. To take the leap of faith. And that it’s okay to demand. To be irrational. And that irrationality isn’t always irrationality. That sometimes, it’s just us being in denial to ourselves of what we really want or not want.
This year, I broke into a thousand pieces. Again and again and again. I learned how to find myself. How to stop medicating. How to deal with pain. That it wasn’t necessary to hold your tears back. That it’s okay to suffer and be over-dramatic and that you don’t need to give a fuck of what other people think of your drama. That’s how you’d learn who’s really there for you. That’s when you’d get to learn who your family really is.
This year, I learned contentment. I learned to give up what saddens me. I realized it was okay to be depressed. That I needed to stop pretending I’m happy. That people rarely cares and that we’re the ones who judge ourselves. I learned to stop thinking highly of what other people think. I learned how to put my self first when I’m at my worst. Basically, I learned not to give a fuck.
I learned that it’s okay to let go of people. To give up on them. It’s okay because people who’re meant to be in your life will find ways to be in your life. And that you’d do the same for people you want to stay in your life.
I learned happiness and sadness.
But more than my learnings, I felt extreme happiness. And how that happiness could crash down like a civilization’s golden age. And that it’s okay to swim in your tears as long as you don’t let yourself drown.