Surprisingly, 42 was one
of my happiest years yet. Last year around this time, I wrote about depression
as a weed killer and this year, my garden is thriving, both literally and
figuratively. There’s a lot of pain in my heart and so much battle still ahead,
but my goal of cultivating a life has been met and exceeded.
Mental
Health: Like for a lot
of women, particularly trauma survivors, the 2016 election season was wildly
triggering. In my case, those triggers got me to an amazing place: Women
Organized Against Rape. Not only did my (FREE!) therapist there stem the
tide of sobbing and panicking to a manageable level, she has also steered me
towards a calmer, warmer, more productive, and loving self—she is truly a brain
artist. It’s hard work to focus on the trauma part of life every Monday, and it
usually results in at least a day of catharsis hangover, but it’s 100% worth
it. This year is the closest I’ve ever come to feeling truly worthy of love,
especially my own.
Love:
Every
day I feel the gorgeous, generous, and powerful love of friends, family, and
cats, but I could copy and paste the longing for romantic love that I’ve
written nearly every year. Though I’ve finally attained the goal of
self-containment to a level that seems magical, I dream about boyfriends nearly
every night. I try to take loneliness as a sign of health, my heart telling me
that it’s ready to open up again.
This
is a good place to confess that there are a couple of guys I haven’t gotten
over. I still wish I could hear from them, even though I know they aren’t the
right ones. I keep their nice notes and artwork in the Box of Things to Be
Worked Out by Unseen Forces. They don’t read this, I don’t think, but I’ll tell
them anyway:
Dear _______ and ________,
Thank you for being in my life, for loving me the best
you could, for the snuggles, the music, the kindness. Thank you for your face,
your kindness, your humor, your support. I’m sorry for the ways that I hurt
you. You’ll always be a sparkly gem in my heart because you changed me for the
better. I’ll always a little bit belong to you, and I hope that you remember
the best parts.
Love, Jane
(With that, I hope I made a little room for some
snuggle-able treasures to come aboard.)
Work:
I
love my tutoring work so, so much. Getting to work with kids one-on-one,
getting to know their families, using my teaching skills organically and
flexibly, I CAN’T BELIEVE I made it here from where I was three years ago. Even
on my lost-est days, a tutoring session brings me back to myself, frees me to
live in love and in the present.
I
have one more semester of grad school (I HATE being back in grad school!) and
then my teacher certification will be permanent. I hope to build up to a
full-time tutoring business—I LOVE being my own boss, and the joy of going to
the bank to deposit cash has not diminished since my waitress years.
Creative
coaching is going beyond-well: Coachees tend to transform into friends who
guide my creativity just as much as I cheerlead theirs.
Art:
At
an organizing meeting last November, I introduced myself as a “street artist”
for the first time, and that title really does ring true. I love being able to
share my work with the neighborhood, watching how well the paintings I staple
to phone poles get curated—some of the pieces have been up for more than a
year! It’s a way to give and get love every time I take a walk, and fulfills
what I think are the deepest purposes of art: to give, to love, to connect.
Sometimes a neighbor even thanks me, and it’s the warmest, most fulfilling,
most enriching feeling.
Activism:
Remember
when we thought it was sometimes not an election year? Transitioning from
activism being a once-once-in-a-while pursuit to being a Daily Action feels
healthy and sane. I’m so inspired by those who stay engaged and also by the way
that we’ve committed to self-care as part of the resistance.
Plus, it’s always a good time to remind myself that
this happened:
Grief:
Although
the Rapist-in-Chief causes the most horror in my heart and worldwide, it’s the misogyny
of the 2016 Democratic primary that has caused me the most personal day-to-day grief,
including making me wonder if I can ever date a man again. I’m working on a
separate post about the ongoing soul-rash that is The Bern, so I won’t spend
any more of my birthday typing about him.
Family:
My family of origin seems to have
forgiven me for my Thanksgiving-ruining, welcoming me back like a prodigal
daughter. My poetry family is mostly not connected to me anymore, largely a
casualty of the misogyny-storm of the primaries. My immediate family is my
ex-wife/bff and my two cats, and that’s a really, really nice life.
Spirituality:
I’m
addicted to Insight Timer, going to yoga weekly, and I’m even getting monthly
massages. Sometimes I think I might just float up off the earth.
It’s been, in many ways, a year of luxury, of radical
self-care, and I hope I can continue that spirit through age 43 and beyond.
Thank you for helping make my life so rich, complex, and loving—wishing you all
of the healing and happiness.