Sometimes I don’t know how the hell I got here. Actually, that is most times. Most days I get the sudden feeling inside that I am living life on borrowed time and that I’m wasting it doing stuff that I know better than to do. Like wasting hours on Facbeook when I could be writing. Writing in my blog, writing letters to my friends, writing in my journal, or writing at all. Then there are the other tricky mistakes that I can’t seem to stop making because I always think that this time around they’ll be different. Mistakes like eating that last piece of chocolate after I’ve already had too much, or that last cup of coffee on my last flight of the day that keeps me from getting a decent night’s sleep, or the expectations that I have for other people that are completely unreasonable for me to have. Maybe I’ll do things differently in this next year? It’s possible.
Each year that I get older, I seem to learn a valuable lesson about myself and about other people. 32 taught me a lot, but I think the most important thing that it taught me is that all that love that I’ve been searching for my whole life is not gonna be found anywhere but inside of myself and if I want it, I have to work really fucking hard for it. And I have to keep the faith that it will be available to me when I’m ready for it.
I can’t even begin to find the words to process the feelings that I’m having in this last hour of the most intense year of my life. I’ve felt a black cloud hanging over my head all day today and I wanted so desperately to know where it was coming from. I had an amazing weekend with some fantastic people, so I should be feeling pretty damn good. But everything hurts right now and because I’m a good alcoholic, I was coming up with some great reasons as to why that was the case. (Read: Everyone else is the problem, not me.) It wasn’t until I sat down to write that I’ve realized that maybe I’m sad to say goodbye to this year, in which I learned SO MUCH and met so, so, so many amazing people. And maybe (more like, PROBABLY) I’m a little scared to welcome in a new year; where there are all kinds of new goals, hopes and dreams.
Getting older is scary. There are all kinds of new aches and pains and wrinkles and fears. But there is also so much good stuff to look forward to. I’m more excited for this birthday than I’ve ever been. Okay, maybe not ever. Turning 13 was pretty exciting. And so was 16, 18 and 21. I guess 30 was cool too. But I certainly didn’t know then what I know now. In the last year, I’ve learned so much about what I’m capable of fighting my way through and I’m looking forward to putting all of the skills that I’ve acquired to use in the year that lies ahead of me. I’m looking forward to loving myself. Being kind to myself when I fuck up, when I make mistakes. Being kind to others when they do the same. Learning new things. Going new places. Holding my new Niece for the first time in about a month. Being the best Lori that I can possibly be. I have faith that it’s gonna be a good year because I have faith in myself and faith in a God that loves me and wants me to be happy. All will be well.
And if I forget the important stuff, there are always writers like Anne Lamott, who give me Faith by writing words like this:
“All I ever wanted since I arrived here on Earth were the things that turned out to be within reach. The same things I needed as a baby – to go from cold to warm, lonely to held, the vessel to the giver, empty to full. You can change the world with a hot bath, if you sink into it from a place of knowing that you are worth profound care, even when you’re dirty and rattled. Who knew?”
On that note, maybe I’ll start this new year of my life with a hot bath. xo