2013 sucked. Let's just call it what it was: a shitty year. I didn't come to that realization only now either. Life is moving fast, way too fast. I'm realizing, as tax time nears, we are in the middle of April 2014. Life still moves fast, there are still so many hiccups, but I have mended a lot.
When a parent dies you are blindsided. Everything as you know it changes. I was angry, mad, impatient, crying at everything. Sometimes I still am, but it's not the same. 2013 made me shut down and sometimes people would get no explanation why. Some of them, however, didn't really deserve one.
There were highlights, yes. NYC in January, my birthday party I hosted in my home, my trip to Saint Maarten with a long time girlfriend and an island reconnection I never thought possible in that small town ("Lisssaaaaa"), and of course, completing year one at Ryerson with amazing grades (and grace).
But I struggled on and off. Maine was not the same experience compared to 2012. I was exhausted, that is the only word that sums it up. I loved the trip for my kids, for the family and best friend I was with, but good God, it was crazy times for me. If there was stress, I didn't manage it well last year. I didn't take photos, I don't remember Christmas. As usual, Ty was my rock. Maybe he knows that, I can never be totally sure. When I thank him for everything here and there he brushes it off like any real hero does.
There have been a few other unsung heroes. Girls in my life whose friendships I rekindled out of love and loyalty that make my life more complete. The men that moved that still check in because 2008 changed us. My married friends that keep me laughing, even if it's just to whine with wine on the floor while our kids play outside. The men in my life who are back, even if it's in smaller degrees, because deep down, they are good men and care, and I have something with each of them and they know this too. I have no regrets because I can't live my life going backwards.
And now I am drawing near to the end of year two at Ryerson. My paper due tomorrow, well, a story/memoir, rather, is about The Ex Husband. It is the last deadline before a week of exams. The paper is difficult to write. Not difficult like an essay and definitely not as hard as writing about my father's death, but hard. That unique tension comes back and hits me in the chest and I forget to breathe. It's like life around me stops or spins and takes me back to the bad memories I forgot, or buried. Part of me doesn't care what grade I get on this paper. To relive my courtroom drama and to even write his name, gets an A+ in my books, when the man himself deserves and is, a total "fail", now more than ever.
The next few months will be interesting chapters in my life, that's for sure, but I'm still embracing this new(ish) year.
What's going on in that beautiful mind?
I'm on your magical mystery ride….
-John Legend "All of Me"
