I had a big year.
I started the year with the thought that I only had 6 months left in Seattle. I had big plans to do it up right.
I went on trips to Portland (twice!) and Vancouver. I went to South by Southwest with my favorite band and good friends. My best friend came to visit me. My brother graduated from college and my whole family was in town. I also met up with my best friend in Austin in October.
I celebrated 10 years in Seattle. My move to Austin fell apart. I started the process of buying my condo. I helped Joe find a job and move back to Seattle.
My year ended with the closing of my condo and my brothers living in the same city as me.
When I write it out like that, it doesn’t seem like much, but when you live that shit, it’s a lot. I can feel every minute of this year deep in my bones.
And you know what? It was a good year. I honestly cannot remember the last time I was able to say that. It’s been at least 5 years, if not more.
It was a good year.
It’s hard for me to say that, actually. So many people I love can’t say the same. There are people I love that have had years so wretched that I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy and I feel that. I feel how hard it’s been for them this year. And because when I love someone, really love them, I feel and experience hurt with them. But, I guess, life will always be like that. Some of us will have good years and some of us won’t. One of the many things I wish I could control, but I can’t.
I had a good year. I deepened relationships. I made amazing new friends. I traveled. I listened to live music. I had a lot of sex—good sex, even. I stood up to my father. I bought my condo.
Life isn’t perfect. It will never be. However, slowly, but surely, I am coming closer to being the person I can be; the person I want to be. I don’t know what next year will bring, but for the first time in my life, I think I can handle whatever it is.