Living in Hope, Always

2022 has been a really hard year for me; in many respects, the hardest year I’ve ever experienced.  Tiger the cat died in January.  My partner was angry and unhappy for much of the year and on my birthday  her blow up ended the relationship.  JT graduated college - a moment of enormous pride and joy for me - but he struggled with the meaning and purpose of his life in the aftermath.  It made for the most challenging parenting I’ve ever experienced.  

The year closes better than it started and given this storm of a year, that’s no small matter.  I wrap up 2022 aged 55 and single, a status I still find surprising to contemplate.  I am not lonely on my own, though I’m a little scared of growing old by myself and being a burden on JT.  I wonder why I never found someone to love me for the long haul.  In my darker moments, that makes me believe that there is something wrong with me.  I know that down that path lies despair.  Mostly, I avoid going there. 

Instead, I square my chin, make a list of the things for which I am grateful, and dismiss my self-doubts.  I remind myself that I am kind and funny; loyal and true.  I consult my affirmations and repeat that I am amazing, smart, and worthy.  Stylish and charming.  Beautiful.  Loved.  I’ve got a whole list of happy adjectives to repeat to myself as a reminder of the things I have going for me.  I know and recognize that truth.   

I always say that I live in hope and though much of 2022 felt like I was grasping for that hope in the midst of inky darkness, the year ends better than it began.  That’s hopeful and happy.  Here’s to 2023, with its new beginnings and living in hope.  

Self-Care and Kindness

In the aftermath of the break-up with T, I looked for ways to be kind to myself.   This is not a trait that comes easily to me but if ever a year called for kindness to myself, it is 2022.  I vowed to remember the little niceties that make my days better.  So it was that even when JT was out of the house, I set the dining room table and made supper for myself.  

Over the last few months, holding to this habit has paid dividends.  I sit with candlelight, music, something to read and I enjoy an evening meal.  There’s nothing quite like a cloth napkin, a home-cooked meal, and a seat at the table to remind myself that though I may feel bewildered and bruised by the last few months, I am still worthy.  

And I’ve the soup to prove it.

Gratitude: Playing Hearts

I love to play games - especially card games - and during Christmas in California there were a lot of opportunities to play.  I enjoyed all of it but I especially enjoyed playing Hearts on Christmas Eve. 

I spent most of my tween years resenting my kid status and remember being allowed to play Hearts with the adults with great fondness.  Seated at the table with my grandparents and parents made me feel like I was being taken seriously, the singular goal of my adolescence.  My Dad is a fiend at the game and, as I recall, he would “shoot the moon” with frequency; that he was often successful impressed me then.   

On Christmas Eve, my nephew C dealt out a game of Hearts and I played with him and my Mom and Dad.  True to my memory (and his history), Dad smoothly shot the moon on the first hand.  He did it the deadly certainty I remember from all those years ago.  My Mom saw it coming but, like the rest of us, she was powerless to stop it.  C was impressed and that was fun to see.  I haven’t played Hearts with my Dad for years but this game brought it all back.  It was one of the nicest hours I spent during my holiday and I am so grateful that C dealt me in.

Seeking the Power of the Universe

I have a vivid memory from the year I moved to Nashville, of going for a Fall walk at Radnor Lake and being among the trees.  They were vastly different than the pine forests I saw on my childhood visits to the Sierra Nevada mountains, but, like those trees, their greatness was a comfort I hadn’t realized I needed.  They brought me peace and a sense of the universe beyond me and my temporal concerns.  From then on, I have seen the woods and tall trees as my place to seek peace;  to offer gratitude to the universe; and to fill my thirsty soul.    

This past Summer, when things were at their hardest, I shared this story with JT and encouraged him to seek that power and peace for himself.  The trees helped me through those days and I hoped that they would also help him.  In November, after my partner and I went our separate ways, walks in the woods were my comfort and solace when things felt their most difficult.   

For my birthday I received a tiny silver charm with a tree.  It was part of a surprise gift box I bought myself and that I received a tree charm felt like the universe was looking out for me.  I’ve been wearing the charm of late, a talisman of the trees, as I find my way forward in my reorganized life.    

JT and I head home to New Jersey tomorrow.  With plenty of time off still on the horizon for me, I’m looking forward to a daily walk in the woods for the rest of the Winter Break holidays.  Among the trees I will soak in the power of the universe and turn my face toward the sun.  

That’s happy.

Home'ish

I’ve come with JT to California for Christmas, to spend time with my family and to try something different as I am once again single at age 55.  Clovis feels like home in some ways —— my family; places and scenery that I recognize; stories and jokes that are familiar.  The neighborhoods where my family lives are all new but the tidy rows of new homes look familiar to me, even if they aren’t the neighborhoods I grew up in.  I find such streets comforting; the newest blocks of them tidy and matching in a Disney sort of fashion that I find charming.

I had forgotten the way holiday lights look in the misty fog, but the  sight is familiar from my childhood and it stills retains its magic all these years later.  I love the holidays and the traditions, even those that are different from my own, and I’m glad to feel included.  I’m thinking about the hard parts of 2022 - there were a lot of them - and the gratitude I feel now, as the year ends.  I’m thinking about the coming of 2023, not bringing expectations to that prospect, but with a reminder to be gentle and kind toward myself as I see what the universe brings for me.

There’s a blessing to be found in that, as I am in my hometown at peace.  Clovis is a world that often felt foreign to me when I was growing up here, where I didn’t often feel welcome or a part of it.  I feel at home with myself now and that is enough, good, even.  I am grateful to be here and look forward with confidence that I always manage to locate hope when I need it.