When New Year’s Eve rolls around, I’m never one to look at the past year, flip it the bird, and dive head first into the next one, so thankful to be done with another crappy year. I’m pretty even-tempered when it comes to the changing of years.
Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had some bad years, but I’ve never looked at it as ‘the year’s fault.’ It’s not as if moving from one date to the next is going to change the rollercoaster of what we experience. I think I’ve posted about this before, if not here, then on my Facebook page for sure, while being somewhat indignant about people who swear off whatever year is ending and pray to whatever god that the next year is better.
Even at my wise, old age of 36, and after all we’ve been through before 2017, I can be so damn naive.
This has been the worst year that my family and extended family has had to endure. From my mom’s stroke, to my hysterectomy-gone-wrong followed by a month in the hospital and many more months recovering, to other things that aren’t appropriate to talk about here, it’s like my whole family has been dropped off in a war zone with no armor, no weapons, and no idea exactly who we’re fighting.
It’s only August and I can already tell you, I’m done with 2017. Done. So let’s breakout the champagne and sparklers and deem it 2018, already, can we? Strike that. I still have another surgery ahead of me, and I don’t want to taint 2018 yet. Sigh.
The whole, “whatever is true, ” notion that Philipians 4 guides us to has been especially hard for me in this season. Though I see God’s hand leading us through everything that has happened, and His presence has been with me, I still have so many questions and so many pent up emotions about what’s gone on this year. Just like the tone of this post, I’m naturally bent toward negativity; it is extremely difficult for me to rise above the bad things that have happened and to set my mind on things above. That has been my assignment lately, to try to rise above the garbage that has been thrown into my path. Jesus, be near.
There is so much to this story, to this year, and I don’t know how much I will divulge here over the coming months.
This is the first time I’ve even been inspired enough to even open a post and start typing, and let’s be honest, this post is the bottom of the barrel for me. This is not the first post I wanted to write when I started writing again. But my commitment here is honesty, vulnerability, and relatable words, and my honest, vulnerable and relatable truth right now is that 2017 sucks.
As I continue to process and grieve what has been stolen from me over the course of the last 8 months, I will share pieces of the story with you, and it won’t always be pretty (case in point). There are areas of my journey that I am processing through specifically so that I can share them with you, because once I do, it will signify healing in my heart. For example: the picture just to the right of this paragraph? It’s making me physically sick to think about actually publishing it to this blog. Physically. Sick.
For now, for today, I’m looking up recipes on how best to serve crow*, because that’s what I’ll be eating on New Year’s Eve when I kick 2017 in the you-know-what.
*No crows were harmed in the crafting of this blog post, and no crows will be harmed as a result of it.