when my hair has turned the color of ash and the tug of earth has become like magnets on my soles, i hope i look back on the year 2020 as the year when everything changed.
if i ever chance to describe my faith in spirit or universe or of gods—i will remember this. that nothing appears in your life that you cannot handle. that everything is happening for you. that the messages become clearer the more time you allow to pass and the more you choose to stay open.
in the winter of 2019, i had just received news of a betrayal. i spent most of my willpower avoiding the thought that someone could break me. i was moving to san diego and starting a new job. everything i wanted was finally falling into place and i eagerly met friends and love interests within my new world.
when the pandemic hit in march, i was at the peak of an old existence. one fabricated out of lost memories and an ill-fitting taste in companions. two events collided into one as i lay in bed nursing a new illness. one that would stay with me for the rest of my life. between grief, shame, blame, regret, and disillusionment, i found my deepest transformation.
i began to let go of an antiquated expectation that somebody was going to save me. i made a promise that i would start caring more about what i thought about myself, reclaiming my power, and beginning a new journey to embodiment and purpose.
i couldn’t have gotten through this year without the help of my therapist, reflecting with me week after week. some days felt like i was caught on a tape being played and rewound and run through beginning to end yet again. others were epiphanic— as if i could follow the thread of my life to the exact moments where each track began and notice how well the transitions weaved throughout.
i made new goals, i fucked up, i got back up, i questioned my childhood, i faced my traumas, i marched for a cause, i explored a new fantasy, i became the mother of my cat, i trusted, i worked furiously, i let things go, i lost track of time, i advocated for myself, i became resilient, i changed. i changed and still i change everyday.
the beginning of a new year becomes more of a folded corner of a very long book, meant to act as bookends for a time in my life rather than a start and a finish. i brandished myself with ink in the form of a snake, the symbol of transmutation. i committed to the unending journey of discovering my own permutations, of aging, of loving, of becoming more than my wildest dreams.
so when i look back on a year of worldly pain, my heart aches for the death and fear and injustice and confusion. but it also holds onto hope that one day, maybe a long time from now, we will all look back on 2020 as the year when everything changed.