Here we are, the start of a new year; the end of another. This is often a time when we take a few moments to reflect on our lives and consider our future as we ask ourselves these very basic questions: What the fuck am I doing? Where am I going? Who do I want to be? Why should I care? And for me the answer is, I don’t really know what I’m doing or where I’m going. And I don’t know how to care. Other people care about these things. Sometimes I wish I were more like other people. Maybe my life would be easier then. Perhaps my life would make sense.
All I’ve ever wanted was a fresh start. For whatever reason (for lots of reasons) I never felt like being me was good enough. I perceived every mistake, every rejection as something that needed to be nullified in order to move on, to find acceptance. So what I love about the dawn of another year is that it seems to promise the opportunity to begin again, to start anew, though it’s really just a mark in time that means… nothing actually. Nevertheless, it does call for some self-reflection.
And this brings me to what I have determined to be my New Year’s resolution, as cliche as that is (since they never seem to last). But this time, I’m hoping, it does. This year I will learn to love and forgive others more, but I know that it must start with me. This is my rebirth: the acknowledgment that I will make mistakes. And sometimes they’ll be on purpose because I just can’t help myself. Sometimes I like to destroy things just to make them beautiful again. I’ll run my fist into the mirror just to hear the glass shatter and watch the blood drip down my fragmented face. But that’s just me. Sometimes I’m frightened no one will understand anything I try to tell them. But maybe, if I work on trying to understand myself, I might be better able to forgive others when they’ve disappointed me. I will forgive other people for not being inside my head to know what I need from them at any given time. And I will forgive myself when I forget this. I will learn to accept that I am worth being loved, for exactly who I am, fragmented and all. The process of my metamorphosis may seem slowed by mistakes made, when really it is the lessons I choose to learn from every experience that make me who I am. And who I am is enough.
Here’s to starting over. Again and again and again. Until you learn the hard lesson of transformation.