If you don’t bend, you break. These are the words I have been – and will continue – repeating to myself.
If you don’t bend, you break.
2020 was…well, it was. It sure was. It was all the things. It was awful, it was big, it was slow, it was sad, it was joyous, it was enlightening. It was a lot of the things and it was all the things. It took away and it gave back. For all of us, in varying doses. In other words, 2020 was really fucking hard.
For the past twelve months, I have felt like I have been pinned down by an unrideable wave. With my back pushed into the coral, eyes unsure whether to look around at the bright colors around me or upwards towards the surface I can’t seem to reach. For brief moments, I’ve caught my breathe, my lips barely touching the air before plummeting back under the pressure of the white water. Every second of those moments are filled with confusion and contemplation: there is profound beauty always mixed in with the darkness of the unknown.
Perhaps what I am describing sounds like depression, but it’s not that. It’s living a life without anchors. It’s wandering in a space that you weren’t sure ever existed. For the past year, I have often felt like I am not in my own life. Instead, someone else’s life. A life I didn’t sign up for, one that isn’t objectively all that bad. Just definitely not what I had expected for myself.
This year has given and it has taken away.
Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to give birth without my the support of my mother.
But I did.
Never had I imagined laboring in a language I could hardly understand.
But I did.
Never did I think I’d spend three months of my life locked in the confines of a small city apartment without the chance to leave for fresh air.
But I did.
Never would I have pour my life savings, heart and soul into building a business I love only to shut down months later amidst a global pandemic.
But I did.
Never, ever, ever could I have fathomed keeping my son away from the love of my family because it was dangerous.
But I did.
Why am I sharing this? Because this is real life. And real life happens. And it doesn’t always feel good. And sometimes, it feels really good and really bad…at the same time. 2020 robbed me in so many ways of the life I have worked hard to create for myself. I have the perspective to understand my own privilege, but this isn’t about that. This is about knowing what you want, working hard for what you want, setting goals and expectations…and nothing working out as planned…and what to do when that happens.
With the changing of the year, I also changed my own year and rang in the big ol’ 34. Thirty-four. Just reading the letters spelled out feels different. I am thirty-four. When did that happen? In the span of the past 365 days a lot has changed, every single thing feels different because every single thing is different. This is a fact. What else I know to be true is that 2021 holds no promise to be better, different, worse or otherwise. We are continuing our path into the unknown. So what are you supposed to do with that?!
The type-A in me has a new planner by November each year, with ambitions, goals, projects and plans already filled in for the year to come. I love building something to look forward to and I passionately work on the sharp corners of myself with yearly intentions. But this year I’m doing things a little differently. Thirty-four year old new mom slightly wiser Gina is going to do it differently. Why? Because if you don’t bend, you break. I’ll admit it: 2020 broke me. And from it, I intend to grow again.
2021, or 34, is the year I intend to practice increased flexibility in all aspects of my life. Learning how to create expectations without holding on to them (woof, my mother has been telling me to do this basically my entire life…#lifeswork) will be the grease between the joints. Expectations are the baseline we set for ourselves, and they’re a good thing, but they’re also a slippery slope. They help us to measure our own successes, our own values, but they’re also a source of great disappointment when they’re not exactly as we had in mind.
I have absolutely no clue what is in store for me this year and planning it out seems a little pointless. Waiting for that moment or that change of tides is equally pointless. I will live my life in shorter moments, stretching out the days, looking around at the beauty and the chaos with a healthier balance of curiosity and contentment. This year, I will (try, let’s be honest, I’ll try) commit to being more flexible with myself, my expectations, the outcomes of my efforts, the efforts I make and how I choose to allow them to define me.
Wish me luck. I know it won’t be easy.
To bending, breaking, growing and glowing,
Happy 2021! Or 34 😉