Despite the many rejections of last year, I knew almost instantly what word I would choose to carry me into 2020. In the past, there was CREATE, BELIEVE, BETTER, PERSEVERANCE, and DREAM. Those choices took much thought, aiming for perfection. But alas, I’ve been trying for better instead of perfect. It’s a struggle, and maybe it always will be.
Historically, February is a difficult month. While it would’ve been more than easy to write these words on the first day of the new year, I think some part of myself knew I would need the reminder now. I’m sure there are too many reasons why, and maybe in other years, I would’ve convinced myself of some falsity instead. But not this year. Perhaps as words penned by someone extraordinary explain: “I’m chasing answers to something I’ve already figured out.”
Maybe I’m tired of hunting whatever this may be. Or better yet, I think I’m done outrunning what I already know to be true. And so this year, the choice to wait until February to proclaim my word for the year seemed a necessity. I needed to know I could make myself believe the power of my word before sharing it with you, dear reader.
And that word is: THRIVE.
I am reminded of this as I look back at photos shared last month following the devastation of the Australian fires. Amidst the blackened tree trunks, rose-colored buds bloom. They thrive despite destruction.
And so too must I, despite darkness and heartache, rejection and doubt and this often frustrating inability to stray too far from the path of the dream, however nonsensical it may seem.
I will thrive.
I’m getting better about trusting my roots to stay planted no matter the storms. I’m learning the limits between striving for success and settling for self-destruction, because the latter seems familiar, and by association, comfortable. And on days when the thunderous thrum of anxiety tries to upend my steady shelter, I’m finding a way to listen only for the rain. To relax. To talk myself through without making a list of everything that will and would and could go wrong.
Despite everything against me, I am immeasurably grateful for the generosity of my people, the ones who seek to remind me of my strength when I question it, the ones who share an entire year of stories in one journal, who discuss mythology and meditation and all the ways to breathe again. Here’s to the ones feeling just as lost, willing to sympathize with similar plights. To the ones climbing mountains while I’m still navigating hills. To my mother. To my sister. To my best friends. To all the many fierce females in my life who helped me write a line about the worlds we women must carry on our backs.
We will do so much more than survive this year.
We will thrive, because we must.
