"2015". That's all I needed to read this morning to fail at my first resolution: not crying for the longest streak possible.
NYE has been an all-hands on deck celebration in my mom's family since before I was born. It's part of who we are. It's a time of reflection for me, more than my birthday. I think of what I've done over the year, whether I've accomplished something meaningful, useful. So far, just about every year in my life has been better than the previous one: love, career, money, family, health. Not so for 2014, which has brought upon me one of the worst life event for a human being: losing my W and half my kids.
For now, I don't know exactly why the number "2015" pains me so much. It may be that I feel I left my W and M in 2014. It may be that I imagine that, as I dread 2015, my W sees it as a year of well-deserved happiness and calm, at long last.
Everybody around me is cheering me on, but around my W, I must be the bad guy. I look at myself in a mirror as I type this and part of me is disgusted. I see the cancerous cells that have been removed from her life. She's been complaining about me to multiple people who have then told her that separation was a proper solution to her troubles. They're happy to see her look, act and feel so much better now (she's off her anti-depressants! no more IC either!).
So perhaps it's not 2014 that was so bad, but 2011, 2012 and 2013 where this cancer of me, or of us, was growing unchecked until it killed our M. 2014 may have taught me to make a less superficial assessment each year and take into consideration, say, the quality of my relationships.
2015 starts as the most unpredictable year of my life. Let's hope it's a good one.
M39 D6 D3 (at S) S 2014-09 D 2016-09
"You can't start a fire sitting around, crying over a broken heart" - Bruce Springsteen.
