I quit 2016 at the lowest point of my life. To overshare: my sleep schedule for the first seven months of the new year was wildly out of control, a floating bedtime from anywhere between 10pm – 6am; I survived almost exclusively on packages of microwave noodles; I gained weight, despite exercising more and eating less, probably because of my reliance on frappuccinos as a quick pick-me-up; I could not be in a room with children, including the lights of my life—the infamous niecephews—for longer than 30 minutes without having to remove myself to a dark, quiet space. It took me months to crawl back up to basic human capacity, to wrestle with the gremlin in my brain that yes I am worthy, no, I am not a piece of junk, God, no, I haven’t failed.
I’m in no hurry to visit any night horrors. Where it matters 2017 leaves me with a sweet taste in my mouth: normally, I sleep on a better schedule now than I have since my first semester of college—there is no morning hellrush and I love it. I’ve made a healthy, fulfilling breakfast habit, commonly punctuated with something homemade and fruity. I fit in my favorite clothes the way I’ve always wanted. I drink tea; Starbucks or fancy ice cream is reserved for celebration. I spent all weekend with small humans and I’m fine, recharged, even. I have so much love again, life to my graying, hardened heart.
If you are my friend and you are reading this: I love you more than even my words can express.
My nerves both mental and physical are doing so, so much better. I am content. I’m writing. Crippled by 250 words/day one month and writing 2,000 a couple later. Alhamdulillah.
To the future me, 2017 tastes like this: stroked out 7s, Discord, Final Fantasy XV, midnight mint mocha, Cardfight!! Vanguard G, shadow paladins, heal triggers, broken glasses, clean sheets, The Office, Tales of Berseria, Breath of the Wild, Persona 5, Scrivener, Cinder, homegrown cucumbers and their water, stress scrapbooking, Moleskines, ice cream parlors, Harry Potter, Ravenclaws, okra, playgrounds, Naruto, 5,000 steps, water balloon fights, boss rushes, Google Keep, kava tea, dual teapots, The Raven Cycle, ice packs, Vienna Teng, red cars, the flighty return of your late night- and long drive-enamored muse, pretentiousness, poetry, piña coladas, weeping joy, legit hijabis, your aesthetic, your niecephews, your best friends, each and every warm-hearted love that never let you go.
Keep editing, keep adding; I like you better with damp hair and your right-leaning smile.