Faster than the years before it, 2017 ended in half a blink of an eye.
There should be a preceding post looking back at all the trials and errors and wonderful things about last year, but I’m not up for it at the moment. Last year was too beautiful and the coming year too rough to be compared side-by-side without heartache. It’s a kind of ache I’ve already been through many times these past couple of weeks. I rather just look ahead and be prepared.
2018 will be a rough ride.
I know, I know. It’s not your usual, cheerful start to a new year.
I’m not being a total pessimist here. I’m being a realist, although, the two does share a rather large overlap. Hear me out, and you’ll see I’m really trying not to be a downer.
The city I have called home for the past 3 years, I now am forced to abandon it. The life I have built in London, I now am forced to break it. The love I have found here, I now am forced to leave it.
Not that I am forced to return to a terrible place. I’m going home, to my family, to a splendid city, to a previous life.
These have their own merits. I love my family, and I miss them heartily. I’ve not been a good daughter these past couple of years and have not spent nearly enough time with them. I love my home city of Vancouver. Its majestic mountains, vast blue ocean, curving coastlines and cosy cafes is a safe harbour to dock myself in. I loved my previous life. It had the comfort and laughter of close friends and a carefreeness that I long to have back.
I don’t doubt for a second that these’ll all be worth it.
But I can’t help but mourn for the loss of my complete and utter autonomy. Family is a wonderful privilege, but it comes with its own weights and fierce clashes of ideas. It comes with a loss, however small, of independence, that sweet taste of freedom which I cannot un-experience.
I mourn for the distance that’ll be put into my relationships. That distance will mean the destruction of friendships, the fading away of others, and the daily struggle of keeping the most important things from falling apart. 4706 miles of ocean and continent, a burden I and my relationships now have to bear.
To those with the wisdom of the ages, they may chuckle at the insignificance of this small blip in a life. I know its dismalness in comparison to the grand scheme of a lifetime. But like it or not, life is built on blocks of small blips. This blip could make-or-break human connections that will determine whom I spend the rest of my life with. This blip will change the course of my life–the geography of it alone will forge separate paths. This blip is important in the bird’s-eye-view of it all.
So I do despair. I mourn.
But I also have faith. I will hold my ground against this cruel turn of fate. I will thrive again like I did in this crazy, brilliant town. I will let the human resilience that is in all of us, guide me through rough seas and high tides.
2018 may be a hot mess, but I will not come out of it as one.
I’m ready for you. I’ve got my sparkly, pink boxing gloves and even sparklier helmet on.
Middle finger to you, 2018.