At the end of each year, I spend some time reflecting on the closing year and my hopes for the year to come.
If you visited this website before I lost all the content, there were similar posts for 2020 and 2021. Those words are lost now, maybe to be found at a later date. I might be able to dig them out of WordPress. I haven’t tried.
But I’ve written these reflections annually since I was thirteen. I didn’t save any of them. Until I decided to try my hand at publishing, my words were for me alone. The yearly closeout reflections were intended to reframe my mind and reset my priorities.
The first three or four years I did this, it was less about a recap and more about self-esteem. I would make a list of all the great things about me. And then, I would make a list of all the things I wanted to change. Then I’d spend the year working on the things I didn’t like. As the list of great things grew to eclipse the list of negativity, my reflections became more of a narrative.
So here we are. 2022 has mere hours left. I’ve procrastinated on doing this for as long as I could.
2020 was one of the hardest years of my life. I lost loved ones. I don’t think that grief will ever fade. But I found success as a new author.
2021 was a nightmare. First, COVID and pneumonia, brain fog, and endless fatigue. Then a natural disaster took our home and our belongings. Three months without a place to call home is LONG time. But I wrote more books, solidified my author career, and told my day job we needed to agree on an exit plan.
Nine books and two novellas in, I knew I could make it as a self-published author. It was time to own my success and push to new levels. I was done with Imposter Syndrome.
2022 was going to be my year. The day job would end in May. I’d spend the second half of the year writing new stories and reaching for success.
Spoiler alert: That’s not what happened.
2022 was not the breakout year I had envisioned, which makes this reflection hard to write. I failed to meet the goals I had set for myself.
There are reasons. The last six months of the day job sucked my creativity away. Then, five days after the job was done, I got sick. At first, we thought it was food poisoning, then some form of IBS.
Months went by as we searched for help. As it dragged on (and on), my system was unable to process food. The lack of nutrients put me on a sharp downward spiral. I had trouble walking and sitting upright. I couldn’t balance myself and couldn’t focus my thoughts.
In the end, I was diagnosed with a form of colitis triggered by my anxiety medication. Twelve weeks of steroids later, my gut is better than it was… but not normal. My energy and strength are slowly coming back. I’m trying to be patient. Recovery has not been a linear thing.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad to be on the mend. I’m hopeful for the future and upbeat about life in general. But, my big accomplishment this year was surviving. I don’t have a remarkable accomplishment to balance against the hard times.
It’s fine. I’ll take survival over the alternative.
2020 broke my heart.
2021 destroyed my sense of security.
2022 tried to break me.
It failed.
I will bounce back from this and carry on with my life. It’ll be a life without anxiety meds, NSAIDs, and gluten, but I’ll manage just fine. I’ve been through worse than this. I have a lot of things left on the bucket list, and I’m just getting started with this author thing. 2022 was not a failure. It was a tortoise year. Things moved slowly as I spent most of the year tucked into my shell, trying to protect my health and sanity.
So, 2023. I wonder what’s ahead for me.
In general, I believe people are responsible for their own happiness. The easiest way to get what you want is to be direct. And, you have to roll with the ups and downs of life because it’s impossible to control everything.
Knowing all that, I’m leaving my options open for the year ahead. Preorders will not be listed until the book is in editing. No hard dates. At least not yet. Maybe by the summer. We don’t know what’s ahead for my gut. (Or the tumor in my head they found while treating my gut. It’s not cancerous, and it’s been there a long time.)
I’m going to write my stories, run my ads, and push for more success. But, more importantly, I’m going to cuddle my kid, tell my husband I love him as often as I can, love on my dogs, hang with our tortoise, and visit with my parents. I’ll make time to see my siblings and cousins, and I’ll squeeze every last bit of joy I can out of every single day.
The last three years have taught me nothing is guaranteed.
Celebrate more, worry less, do the best you can with what you have, and keep moving forward.