So now what?

In 2014 I wrote a list of “New Year’s Resolutions.” I was young then, still am now, so these things, they were silly. But regardless it was a list. A list, which felt like a step in the direction of being better, of accountability, of transformation, or at least the hope of ...

Right? I mean, isn’t that why we write them?

I’ve only ever dated one person, only loved in that way with one person. It was the most suffocating type of love, the type that is damagingly unfair and unsafe to both of us. We were not then, who we are now and even then, we weren’t ourselves. So, when I think about that list in the context of that relationship it makes so much sense; of course, I was trying to change because I wanted to fit into something that was never meant to work, and it didn’t.

See the thing is, I’ve never been one to follow a linear path, I go from A to K to J and back to B without ever making it to Z. I’ve never been one to create a “five-year career plan,” even with much opposition from my professors. I’m not the person who checks the weather forecast and their refrigerator before a nor’easter. My socks don’t always match, and my underwear may not always be clean and I’m probably the drunkest person at the party, but I have always been that way.

I’m not a “lister.” It’s not who I am or who I’ve ever been, which leaves me to wonder, "now what?"

Here’s what I know about progress; there’s no measure for it even when we want there to be. And it looks different on all of us. Some days we have it all together and other days it’s all crumbling down like a poorly made pie. Transformation and growth, it’s not quantifiable, it can’t be written down nor calculated because truthfully, we don’t know anything about time or how much of it we have or what is going to come next.

I couldn’t have known that last year would be the last year my grandfather would walk this earth, with me. I couldn’t have known last year that I would find a new home within my old home. I couldn’t have known last year that I would quit my job this year; all I know is I was happy until I wasn’t. My relationship once looked a lot like that too except back then I stayed and now I wouldn’t; I didn’t.

See, progress.

We all lost people this year, lost work, lost hope, maybe found it again, or maybe not. We adapted, loved, failed, felt defeated, alone, maybe together again, or maybe not. We challenged, learned, pushed forward, stepped outside ourselves and then maybe back in again or maybe not. In the end we did the best we could, I did the best I could.

Now I think maybe I’m writing this to reassure myself more than anything. As if saying “I did the best I could” is enough and yet I can still do better, we all can, and we should.

So I don’t know what that means for 2021 or what that will look like, maybe it won’t look like anything; maybe it will sound like something, or maybe it will be something.

Maybe it’s finally apologizing the moment we realize we’re wrong and maybe it's refusing to say sorry when we are not. Maybe it’s saying “no” when we’ve always been taught to say “yes.” Maybe it’s walking away from a friendship that has long felt over, even if it hurts. Maybe it’s confrontation, maybe it’s giving grace and kindness to those who need it. Maybe it’s laughing with new friends as you introduce old ones. Maybe it’s loving your body even on days you hate it. Maybe it’s letting someone in who has hurt you and letting someone go for that very reason. Maybe it’s holding your best friends’ hand as they walk down the aisle. Maybe it’s saying, “I love you,” even if it scares you. Maybe it’s healing in a way that feels safe for you. Maybe it’s forgiving the unforgivable. Maybe it’s accepting death before we ever face it, maybe it’s none of these and maybe it’s all of them. But whatever it is, I assure you, you won’t find it on some list, you’ll find it in the very moment after when you realize you really have changed.