Why I Won't Say 2019 Was The Worst Year Of My Life, Even Though I Could
“This past year has been incredibly hard. There is no denying it. I know I am not alone in that truth, and that 2019 was difficult for many others. It only takes a flick through a newspaper or a scroll on Twitter to realise this year has dealt its fair share of badness. In the last 12 months I have faced more tragedy and loss than in my previous 23 years combined. I had never truly dealt with grief before this year, and to be hit by its unforgiving hand multiple times within a matter of months was something no amount of experience could have prepared me for. However, as the countdown for the next year (and the next decade) fast approaches, I find myself less and less willing to allow 2019 to end on a sour note.
Pain is inevitable, completely relative, and incomparable. To some who read this, the things I have been through this year might seem so inconsequential that my admittedly privileged life seems laughable. Others might see what I have lost and suffered this year and wonder how I get out of bed each day. This is not a “woe is me” article, nor am I looking for a shiny medal for heroism. I’m not saying it was the most tragic year in history, I’m not saying that I suffered more than anyone else, I’m not even saying that I won’t have more difficult years in the future. What I am saying is that 2019 was the hardest year of my life thus far; and that’s ok.
This year I was shattered by loss, repeatedly. No matter how much I tried to put myself back together, to be like I was before, my attempts were and will always be futile. There will always be pieces missing now, but I have come to realise that that’s alright. That the missing pieces are just as important and essential as any part of me that remains. If anything, the empty spaces are more beautiful for the way they let light shine on the pieces of me that I have salvaged. They show what I have lost, who I have lost, a pain that will never be forgotten; but they also show that I am strong enough to save what I can, to gather the other pieces of my life back together. These new wounds are a precious reminder that I was lucky enough to love so completely that death tore the sun from my sky for a while, that I was brave enough in my pursuits of a dream that I momentarily felt desolate when powers beyond my control cut it short. What remains is more treasured because of what is now missing.
“When it passes, I can appreciate the heartache as a lesson. To love more deeply, express more clearly, trust more willingly, take chances more bravely. ”
If I could click my fingers and take back what, and especially who, has been taken from me this year, I would – absolutely, no questions asked. However, no amount of 11:11 wishes or fingers crossed can change what has happened. I am now at a point that I can feel a sense of gratitude for the trials of this year. The great losses and incredible lows have made the highs so much sweeter. I am hyper aware of any and all achievements. That is not to say that I don’t mourn my losses, if I’m completely honest, I’m probably still in the unpredictable clutches of grief. I can wake one morning, hear the birds chirping, appreciate the frost on my windowsill, sing my way into the bathroom to brush my teeth, have witty conversations with my colleagues, pleasantly surprise myself by cooking a delicious meal, and then cry myself to sleep – caught unaware by a great wave of sadness. That is my grief. It is horrible and lonely and devastating in the moment. But I have come to know that waves come and go, regardless of how fiercely they hit the shore. A lot of things in life are uncomfortable in the moment. Getting your teeth cleaned at the dentist, doing your taxes, the first wax of the summer – but once they pass, you are guaranteed a strange sense of satisfaction for the suffering. Now, months later, I can view my pain in a very similar way. When it passes, I can appreciate the heartache as a lesson. To love more deeply, express more clearly, trust more willingly, take chances more bravely.
This year has taught me, through both the highs and lows, to appreciate what this life can offer me, the joy and immeasurable beauty gifted to us on a daily basis. But, perhaps more importantly, 2019 has shown me what I have to give in return. There was no eureka moment for me, any realisations I had were slow. However, I now understand that isolation and selfishness pair too seamlessly with mourning. That, apathy, though tempting, cannot lead to change and certainly not positive change. Some days I leant into my pain, allowed the grief to consume me, other days I had the strength to decide to, not ignore my pain but channel it in other ways. I saw that I am needed just as much as I need. I give my shoulder freely for others to cry on more often than I reach for theirs to catch my own tears. I can be the positive energy that changes the atmosphere in a room. That although I may have limited power over what happens to or around me, I have absolute control over my actions and reactions.
There is no chance I will forget the losses I suffered in 2019, they are as much a part of me now as the blood in my veins. They will not and cannot be tied up with a ribbon on New Year’s Eve with a note completely writing off the last year. The pain I have felt will not suddenly be erased when the clock strikes 12 on the 31st of December, nor should I expect it to. It is so easy to fall victim to the “new year, new me” pressure, only to feel a deep disappointment when the slate isn’t wiped clean and the scars remain. We need to start being kinder to ourselves in our hopes for the future, to respect our past selves for getting us to where we are now. I want to make sure that my struggles are not all that I remember from this year. I want to see it as the year I also managed to run straight past all of my comfort zones. The year I exceeded my career expectations and pushed my ambitions even farther. The year I became a better friend, daughter, and sister. The year I sought out the silver lining in each and every dark cloud. The year that I lived more authentically and consciously because of the hard times, not necessarily despite them.”
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Thank you so much to Rachel for contributing this raw and beautifully articulated piece about grief and the lessons and struggles that come with it. You can find her on Instagram at @racheldwyer or read her previous post on TIGC- A Big Move To The Big Apple: Thriving In A Move Abroad here!