2018: The Year In Review

It’s a bit cliché to get all retrospective as the year draws to its inevitable close, but facing down the barrel of another New Year dams the anxiety in my brain, forcing my thoughts into an endless cycle of where-am-I-going-in-life/what-have-I-done-all-year.

2018 has been a year of horror and illness, of joy and miracles, of hot tears and belly laughs. I don’t know which side is winning or if it’s even important. I’ve recognized that I am drowning, which seemed to be the first step in learning to swim. Some days I even manage to tread water and feel like a real live person.

The biggest victory of 2018 is my mother’s health. In a lot of ways, my mom was fortunate. She has a stellar medical team every step of her very long, winding journey. Her insurance is very good and afforded her some key opportunities without sending her into hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt (which is totally possible when just one of sixteen chemo treatments can cost $30,000). She has so many side effects she’s still dealing with, but the most important thing is she’s here. She’s here. I can have coffee with her, I can hug her tightly, I can talk to her at the end of a horrible day. She still has so much road in front of her in gaining back her full health, but she’s here to do it. She’s the strongest woman I know, and one of the brightest lights in my universe.

And then there’s Freya. My wild, sweet, bitey, furry antidepressant. It’s been years since I’ve had a pet to care for. For a long time, I was pretty bad at taking care of myself. But I am indescribably grateful for her presence in my life. I don’t mind being a crazy cat lady because my crazy cat makes me feel like the person I used to be isn’t a stranger. Recovery is possible. Hope doesn’t have to hurt.

Unfortunately, 2018 was not the creative productive year I had planned on. My writing was nonexistent, outside a <500 word short story. I didn’t even participate in NaNo this year, the first time in a decade. CSO suffered—I think there was a whopping four entries this year? I did manage to create quite a few crochet pieces, knotting some peace into my life with colorful yarns.

My mental health journey continues to be one step forward, four steps back, but there’s at least some momentum. I’m functioning more than I’m not. I’m learning to accept my limitations and how to circumnavigate my own brain. It’s a slow, painful process but I’m still going.

So maybe sorrow won the battle of 2018. But it won’t win the war.