2024 in review
Sunday, January 12th, 2025
It was a year throughout which I thought a lot about becoming my self. And what does such a loaded concept even mean? I have always felt frustrated by the overly simplistic advice to “just be yourself”. I think that cheapens the vast amount of bravery needed to stand in your authenticity. “Build the courage to be yourself” is far more inspiring and more real to me. So courage in heart, I set out on this sort of becoming only to find it utterly destructive in nature. It turns out that discovery of self also involves the painful discovery of all that is curiously not self. Years upon years of hurt, of survival, of stories rooted in the opinions and the beliefs of others. For many of us, sadly and unfairly, those stories are unkind.
In the spring, I wrote about this very raw process. There was a large amount of grief in saying goodbye to this tired version of me. This old self, this former self. It was a letting go, and it was a letting go of someone I l o v e d. I did not resent this version of myself, I so deeply cherished her. I am still, to this day, grateful to her. With all of her scheming, with all of her hiding, with all of her clever hypervigilance and people-pleasing skills, she survived. She expertly stashed away that precious nugget of self for a later date where she would slowly begin to uncover it, in safety. But, her time had come and so I said many tearful goodbyes, over and over again, as this new self took over making decisions. This old self did not go quietly nor quickly, but over time with gritted teeth she went. There was now much loving space in which to emerge.
As Mary Oliver often does, she spoke in my head, her famous line echoing “Now that I am free to be myself, who am I?” Thus far, I had unearthed the pain. I faced it, felt it, let it pour out of me. Then I took a look at the self that I was being, the self that was born out of survival and I said my farewell. And I had built a safe life for myself, a safe home, a sanctuary in order for this self-discovery to even be possible. Who am I? It sounds like a child’s question and if you are lucky, it was for you. But in the childhood I had, there was no such luxury and anyway, it’s a question so many of us neglect at all phases of life because of how scary it really is.
If you ask the question who am I? I hope you are ready for the answers. All of the answers. Even the nasty ones. Or the ones that just feel nasty and why do they? When did you start believing those stories? If you dare to wonder who you are, you must provide a safe place for that information to come forward. You have to be willing to face the shame and the fear that maybe the answer to that question is “idk someone super terrible”. And hug that answer until it turns into something real, someone human. Someone with wonderful and terrible qualities who is completely and exquisitely unique and who wants to spend their one shot on this insane and magical planet growing.
So I grew. I began inhaling. Expanding. I noticed how incredibly stifling those old stories were. I noticed how many times I was the force keeping my own self small for that was my safety. My comfort had been a role of pleasing, of making comfortable, of keeping the peace. Of knowing exactly what you wanted and how to give it to you. My comfort had been abandoning my self, for you. My comfort had been choosing people who also wanted this. But now all of this felt UNCOMFORTABLE and my expansive joy was instead to remain loyal to my self at all times. My old life was simply too small for me.
And this is where courage really comes into play, as if it hadn’t already in the previous four acts. There is courage in the outgrowing because it is disappointing. How come this old friendship no longer feels supportive and how come this other friend ghosted me? How come I achieved a goal that I was SO SURE I wanted only to feel…nothing? How come I feel more compassionate to my own mistakes and ready to make them only to find this relationship, this friendship, this connection utterly lacking in repair? How come I feel more true to myself and too much all at once? Because stepping into my authenticity never guaranteed me acceptance. Feeling more true to myself never meant that that self would be liked. There is courage in the outgrowing because it will not make everyone happy. In fact, it might lose you some people, quite a few people. If you want to avoid rejection, stepping into your authenticity is not the way to do it. But that’s when I would remind myself: what is my aim here? If my aim is to be liked, I had the method down for decades. I have been liked, I could be liked again. I could tread lightly and carefully and exist so as not to offend. And I could brush things under the rug, thereby avoiding the vulnerability not only of conflict, but of conflict resolution. But alas, le sigh, that is not my aim. My aim is to be myself and while it might feel familiar to shrink back into my shell, to feel that rejection and give up on this whole blessedly scary endeavour, that is not why I am doing this. I can handle the rejection of others, but I can no longer handle the rejection of my self.
So that was my 2024 in a beautifully chaotic nutshell. The “just be yourself” journey of dismantling, grieving, emerging, becoming, accepting, growing and disappointing. Discovering the paradox that letting go is both the heaviest and lightest thing you will do. And most courageous when it comes to that of the self.
2025 arrives and it feels exciting. Yet there is a calm, a need to sit here in non-verbal stillness with a cup of tea and appreciate all that I went through. All that I was willing to face. All that I trusted myself to handle. If 2024 was the year of courage, 2025 is the year of trust.
By this point, I trust myself to weather any storm, fight any battle. I am beautifully laced with resiliency. But I also trust myself to choose which battles are mine to fight and which are not. I trust myself to support and uplift others in conquering their own battles, instead of inserting myself into their fight. But mostly I trust myself because I am myself and one of the biggest lessons I learned about authenticity is that it breeds trust. It is comforting to be in the presence of others who are unmasked. It is comforting to be in the presence of others who have accepted all the yucky and yummy parts of themselves and are able to be so gentle with yours. It is comforting to know where you stand with those who are direct with their compassion, joy and humility. It is a comfort I feel more ready to give others.
2025 is the year of trust not only because I have gained such trust for myself, but because it is time that I trust others. It is time to do the hard thing and build connection, deep connection where I no longer limit myself with my low expectations, with my absolute readiness to be let down. I trust myself to handle the pain, but do I trust that others won’t inflict that pain, or rather will seek to repair when they do? Can I trust there are people for whom I am not too much, too large in my outgrowing, too deep in my healing, too needy in my needing? I am so lovely in my solitude and I am so filled with joy in my safe home of art and tea and trinkets. Can I trust that there is a place for me to be lovely out there? With you? Can I trust that I can find pleasure in life, that I can feel myself thrive and not just survive? That I’ve gone through all of this dark in order to feel the light, but I must feel the light and live in the light! I know I can handle the pain, but can I experience the joy? With others, through others, alongside others. From others and towards others. Can I trust that this self-love I have cultivated is proof of my innate lovability? Can I trust someone else, someone outside of myself, to love me with a love that feels generous and warm and safe? Can I step into that possibility, with my authenticity, with my trust and with all of my desire?
Yes, with courage and fear,
Yes!
Towards the light.
