That was a little bit of a disaster.
I find New Years a strange concept. Always have. We wait until a specific date to set resolutions and dust ourselves off when really we should’ve been doing that all year long.
I’ve set no resolutions, except to keep doing all I was in the later months of 2019 in order to better myself and find contentment again.
Because let’s face it, who ever changes in the new year? We grow with experience most definitely, but never drastically transform into a higher being.
Last year was not my year. I thought it might’ve been in the early days of February, but life gets in the way and things don’t always go to plan.
I cried a lot (I mean a lot), but had some hectic times with my friends. I drank myself silly and made some questionable choices. I hurt people and they hurt me. I lost loved ones suddenly but connected with my family on a deeper level.
I had days where I was consumed by loneliness and pain. I lost a lot of love for myself. Beat myself up and felt as though I was not good enough for the world. I realised I am an good person and surrounded myself with people who accept me.
Felt my heart crumble before me. I ate lots of ice cream and saw my coffee addiction spiral. I gained 5 kilos by June, lost those 5 kilos by October, and decided to take more control over my health. My doctor was sick of seeing me and I was sick of coughing. I sorted out my sleep after months of insomnia and wrote a lot of music.
I made a fool of myself and learnt some lessons. My faults and fears were thrown in my face and after a long time I finally started to acknowledge them. I sang to my friends and lived in the piano rooms for a semester.
I laughed, collapsed, screamed, kicked, hugged, kissed and let myself feel. I smashed myself into the dirt and prayed someone would save me, when all along I the only person who could was myself. I will grow. We all do.
It was a bad year. But not a bad life. And within that bad year were some pretty wicked times.
So, I’m going to burn my 2019 diary throw the trash in the bin. I may mourn for it, but I know it belongs there.