This morning, after I poured a second cup of coffee, I laid in my bed and started scrolling through Instagram. Almost every post had something to say about embracing the new year... creating the changes you wish to see... letting go of the past... looking forward to the future...being grateful for what you have.
The more inspirational the messages were supposed to be, the more frustrated I felt. It's just so different for me, I thought, loud enough that it possibly could have been heard.
Those of us who have come to experience the world alongside chronic illness, loss, grief, and life's consequential challenges, everything is so different. We are strong yet feel so weak. We are initially hopeful, but it's soon deflated by the reality of life's hardships. We give everything we have to give, but somehow it feels like it is never enough.
A tear formed and quickly fell down my cheek, I reached out my slightly injured arm (One word: Hoverboard) and found comfort by petting my dog's soft furry back. She immediately looked up at me and her big, brown, soulful eyes somehow calmed much of my mounting anxiety.
But then the moment passed, and I found myself still in the thicket of searching for answers that provides meaning to the past year and decade of my life.
Why? Why, why, why?
It is the one thing that has really been on my mind lately, and maybe it's fair to say that it is also the one hope I still hold onto.
Something good must be coming from all that I've experienced, all that I've learned. Right?
Tomorrow marks a brand-new year, and I will confidently say that I haven't given one thought to making a resolution. I know a lot of others are focused on the excitement and cleaning that a new year can bring, but for me, I struggle to see it as anything more than just another day.
Maybe I'd feel different if this year didn't break me as much as it did. Or if I knew for sure that all of the problems were a thing of the past.
Trust me, I wish I would go to bed tonight, shortly after "Pittsburgh midnight" at 11 pm CT since my daughter insists on staying up until then, believing that things would finally be different. But it's hard to believe in that kind of magic when the same wish hasn't come true for many years now.
But for some reason, right now I do have an inkling of hope circling within me and enough to ask:
Can tomorrow please be different?
Can next year be better than all of the ones before?
Honestly, I'm just ready to let go of all the questions, the struggles, and the pain. I'm ready to live life again. I'm ready to be happy.