I love having a body of work to look back on. Sometimes it’s cathartic to see who I was. There are times when I’ll look back and cringe. There are times when I’ll look back and loudly proclaim into the ether, “how is it possible that I’ve aged that much?” Mostly, I look back and hang my head in shame for the bright-eyed girl on the other side of the computer; just overflowing with positivity and ready to take the world by storm. I admire her chutzpah, as I like to use the term, “sadder but wiser” to describe myself now. (Yes. It’s from The Music Man, I was in the musical in high school and that sentiment always stuck out to me.)

Now that so much of my career is wrapped up in determining goals based on KPIs and the like, I’ve been having a difficult time figuring out my personal goals. Like most other 27-year-olds, I just want to be happy, and how, exactly, does one quantify happiness? Is it money? Is it the number of functional relationships? Is it one successfully ongoing romantic engagement? Is it an ideal brunch to nap ratio every Sunday? The jury’s still out on that one but I’ve figured out a way to measure my process throughout the year, and that solution is progress itself. As long as I’m still going, I’ll keep going. Even if I’m going through hell.

I was having a conversation about this past year with my therapist this morning. For those of you who know me personally, you know all about it. Even if you only read here occasionally, you’ve probably gotten a pretty decent idea of the struggle throughout the last 12 months. At the end of 2017, I proudly remarked that I believed 2018 would be my best yet. When I re-read that again, nearly 365 days later, I laughed. Then I was sad that I’d had another year with heartbreak after heartbreak, failure after failure. Then, I realized something. I’m still here. I’m still fighting. I have the strength to live another day and try again. My therapist expanded on this, telling me that all I did was react to the difficult things that happened. That I didn’t give up. That I made decisions that I had to make in order to survive and to make sure that I’m stronger for having been through what I’ve been through.

I’m proud of myself for getting through it, but I’m aware that I’ve lost some of my softness in the process. Because of this, I’m going to try to find that this year. Do I know exactly what that means at the moment? NOPE. But I think it’ll mean something next month, and something completely different the month after that, and, with any luck, it’ll be a skill I possess 365 days from now. The skill of doing no harm, but taking no shit.

So, who am I? I’m looking forward to figuring that out. I’m looking forward to taking the next year to do so. I’m excited to uncover my softness and rediscover the side of me that’s not afraid to be emotionally available. I’m also looking forward to documenting it and sharing it all with you.

Thanks for making this year a memorable one, for better or worse. ilysm.

xo, e.m.