It seems like everyone wants to talk a little, or write a little about 2015 before the new year really starts, and I don’t blame them. There is a value in meditating on the year we just completed before starting the next one, and it feels more important than ever–at least for my self–as 2015 was a particularly hard but amazing year.
I opened the year unemployed in a new city, with a husband fresh on deployment, and my thesis in the trash. I was sick all of December, January, and February with bronchitis and rarely left the house. I spent my mornings applying for jobs and my mid-days writing. The rest of the time I obsessed over the few things I could control: the stuff in my apartment and what I was watching on TV. It was depressing, I was beyond depressed. I was writing about a woman who never left her house that lived in a half-dream hallucination and I was that woman. Through a fever dream I applied for over 90 jobs and watched hundreds of hours of television. I cannot remember most of it. I do however remember sunny days on my porch, emotional conversations with boo on the phone, and the few fragile times I left the house. There were times when I know K hated me, and I definitely hated myself.
By March, though, the fever was starting to clear. I turned in my first draft of my second thesis and found temp work in an industry I never thought I’d be part of. I spent the rest of the spring writing and working long hours trying to earn a permanent spot at work. I edited thousands of pages of pro formas, leases, and traced the mineral rights for over twenty plots of land and dozens more family members. I finally graduated in May via Skype in what was one of the most anticlimactic, lonely graduations/defenses ever, and was hired on full time at my company soon after.
The rest has all been documented here. Events for NANO, K coming home, the purchase of our first house. All good, beautiful things, that took a lot of waiting and ass busting to get to.
This post is a litany big moments but also a thankful breath, a moment where I can tell myself: Good work. It’s smoother sailing from here.
But while I’ve collected the bigger moments, I haven’t touched on the smaller things, the things I haven’t been able to spend much time thinking about because all the big life pieces were moving around and always in the way. The things like: How wonderful and easy it’s been to have K home. How my anxiety about how we would work together longterm has subsided but that I’ve replaced it with more selfish anxieties about my writing practice: like if I’ll ever find time in this new, domestic, normal life to write again, and if I should end NANO Fiction at our ten year anniversary.
So much has changed for me in 2015 and the three years that prefaced it, that I don’t know much about the person who ended up in 2016.
What makes her happy? Will she find the time to write? Or does she not have anything to say? Will she find a creative outlet again? Where will she find her bliss?
I hope I don’t take too long to find out.