"At the beginning of 2013, you were so sure it was going to be 'your year'. And you know, it hasn't been in the way you thought it would be, but it's still been your year."
As soon as she said it, I knew she was right.
I felt proud.
When the dawn of 2013 arrived, I saw on its horizon a year of success and sparkle and grins and sun-drenched moments of "in it" joy. I was sure that it was the year my blog was going to become famous, that my kids would sail into the easy zone, and that my marriage would be gleaming and covet-able.
Instead, 2013 has been, in a word, uncomfortable. It's been fucking hard. My blog? Still little and local. Which is fine, of course. It's the least important thing on the list of important things. My kids are being exactly perfect in their kid-ness, learning and making mistakes and teaching me how to be patient and ever-more human, just like them. My marriage has visited new places of, "Really? We're here?" We've looked at each other and seen strangers. We've been silent in ways that gave me chills.
And yet it was still my year. Because I did it. I sat inside of extreme discomfort. I didn't erase it or shove it outside of the frame. I went to therapy week after week and raged and cried and had moments of incredible clarity. I sank into moments that felt hopeless and I got cozy there. It was sometimes horrible.
But I did it.
And that, my friends, feels like a miracle.
Pain happens in the every day. Change happens in the every day. Growth happens when we sit, when we make the choice to really exist inside of our every day.
I'm just gonna keep on doing that.
Wishing you the best, real-est moments to get cozy in,