A Goodbye to 2018

2018. What can I even say to you? You've kind of been a bitch. However, you've also helped me to find a part of me that was lost.

2018. The year of pain. Struggle. Anger. Fear. Disgust.

2018. The year of remembering what love is. Being reminded of the impact one voice can have. Realizing how much we can heal through creativity.

2018. Did I just step in dog shit? No. That's just life.

2018. When life dictates that you WILL learn how powerful you are. When life pushes you to realize how much you can go through and survive.

2018. When the pain of anxiety and repressed emotions physically hurt. When it's uncomfortable to just try to exist because you are unable to process everything happening.

2018. When you keep hoping for a better 2019. When hope is the only thing getting you through to the next moment. When hope is that last glimmer of light to guide you out of darkness.

2018. The year that has taught us the most. Through the hard lessons. The year that has showed us how much the people who honestly love us....truly do love us. How much that helps us heal.

2018. The year we tried to fight back. And most times failed.... And, yet.... there's still hope. There is still love.

As I try to process this year, I find myself uncomfortable with anger, overwhelming sadness, fear, confusion, and undeniable love. Despite all of the darkness surrounding all of us, there is someone who loves us whether we realize it or not. There is someone who feels what we are feeling. There is someone struggling just as much as us.

We all joke about how the holidays force us to spend time with those family members who disagree about our political views, but it's a reality. Last night I listened to a man repeating the bold faced lies he had been told as if they were truths, and he truly believed them. He wanted to prove that this president was the only one who was great; the only one who visited the troops overseas. He was proven wrong 30 seconds later by the same channel that taught him to think that way. Shortly after, another man made a comment that Obama only went across seas to visit "his Muslim people." I wanted to scream how ridiculous that was. I wanted to argue. And then another comment was made as a child from the caravan seeking refuge passed away from illness was shown. A comment from a retired teacher to children. "Oh, God. They can't blame us for that. How can they know that kid wasn't sick before it came here?" That kid? SHE came here to escape violence with her family. THEY all came her for safety. They hoped to be given a chance, but instead will blame and hate and cast aside. And somehow that's ok because we're protecting "our country". The country that has become so divided because we choose to destroy our own rather than learning to coexist. The country that rips apart children from their parents and thinks it's ok when they can't reunite them. They think it's ok when part of that family dies.

2018. The year of hypocrisy. The year of "things will be this way unless they don't benefit me, then I'll do it a different way and claim to have never said that."

My heart aches. Not just for the state of our country, but for the state of the people. I receive so many messages about things that are wrong day to day with my friends and loved ones. Some days it's really hard for me to not tell them to shut the fuck up and do something about it.

"How was your holiday?" Fine, I guess. Busy. How was yours? "OMG! Let me tell you every little thing that went wrong!" Oh, cool.

But my holiday wasn't fine. And I'm not fine. But I don't want fake pity. And I don't want to explain the situation hundreds of times. So my holiday was fine.

If I'm being honest, I'm tired. My depression is fighting to take over. I'm uncomfortable. I'm angry. I'm so incredibly sad. And since I don't want to just vaguebook, I will tell you why.

On the morning of the 22nd, what we thought was a stroke of a family member turned out to be multiple brain tumors. As the day went on, the brain tumors were also joined with masses in the lung. By the 25th, there was another mass on the stem of the brain. The abdomen. The back. And a chance of cancer in the bones. More tests were taken yesterday, including a biopsy. But with nothing confirmed, you try to stay positive. Each visit to the hospital ripping a piece of you away as you leave.

But I did my best to smile for everyone. I held my nieces close in hopes to ease some of my pain when no one was looking. I tried to ignore the awkward family gatherings. I tried to convince myself that maybe things that had dragged me down to a immobilizing state of depression before weren't actually as bad as I had made them to be. But they are. And it all still hurts.

And that's ok. It's ok to not be ok.

So, despite it all, I look forward to 2019. I look forward to the hope that the new year brings us all. I look forward to latching on to that hope and allowing it to pull me along.

Remember these things: You are loved. You matter to someone. There is always hope. And you are never alone.

May the new year come to you all with the gift of hope and change for the better.