Ohmygod I am so proud of myself. I journaled about what I've accomplished this year and I was shocked to find it was so much more than I thought. A timelapse of my 2020 would be sad. It's mostly me, in lumpy clothes, shuffling from one room to the other room. Sometimes computer in front of me, sometimes holding a mason jar of coffee, sometimes watching an HBO drama, sometimes sun streaming in, sometimes gloomy. But probably because from the outside everything looks so similar, this recluse life has offered me more than I remembered.
In the personal I evaluated my relationship to self. I started therapy again and have graduated from four personal development attachment style online courses. I am so much more in touch with who I am and while I have several more snowy roads to trod, me a year ago would probably not even be able to follow the conversations I have with me. So much has been unearthed and dusted off and set in a display case. I made big overhauls to my belief systems. It happened little by little and then all at once. I learned and made baby steps at voicing boundaries. I let myself grow closer to those I trust and try to release the tension around those I don't. It's a work in progress, which is better than "in development." I really believe just staying safe and healthy this year is a feat alone. I did both by sticking strong to CDC guidelines and, while tempted, I stuck to my isolated life. This took and gave. I have never been more alone, but in the alone is the only way I was able to get so deep into myself. I am grateful I didn't take the bait. I was introspective or made my own fun. Puhg and I went on a few isolated vacations--a cabin in the woods, an airbnb in the desert, the beach. These trips would have seemed so underwhelming before. Cooking and devoid of culture, but they were wonderful breaths of non-trafficked air. My body feels healthier. Eating more at home, at appropriate times, more walks in nature, more HIIT, more light weights, baths. None of this was planned, I'm just more calm. I adopted a hamster, who is my little light.
Career-wise I felt just barely afloat these entire twelve months, but I've never been more secure financially and maybe having so many just-misses is a proof of opportunity, not the alternative. I remember I ate off one Almost for a year in 2017. Now they come and go every week. I'm tired of rolling out the welcome mat. It's made me both bitter and discerning. My hope is the latter dissipates and leaves the wisdom behind. I distanced myself from a professional who wasn't right, I accepted being distanced from another. I put myself out there and did feel stupid for it, but if you never try, you never know. Meanwhile there were some legitimate wins. I sold a musical, and while I'm not in love with it, I learned a ton from the process, and I am immensely proud of myself for closing the deal sans lawyers. I wrote segments for a big awards show. I had three essays published. I wrote a new pilot, play, and feature. All three extremely me. I wrote other things I didn't like as much that fizzled out. I am now staffed in a writers' room. It's not what I expected nor does it fit the exact image I meant when I wrote "staff" on my vision board, but it happened and I do like it. I gave feedback to a bunch of folks, including a couple I'd thought were out of my league. I dramaturged a musical that never opened.
In the hybrid personal/career I took a class about my artist sense and while I was first a real skeptical little pill have stayed sane with the lessons learned. I don't ever remember how I used to function. I also finished six Masterclasses. That's a lot, I just now realize. I organized my bedroom bookshelf and purged boatloads from under the bed. I learned to slow down. I wrote something and planned ahead for months of revisions, I hired an expensive professional to guide me and was as delicate as possible. I became an active member of three writers' groups. I care less about what people think. I talk about myself with more respect. I had some helpful meetings that might pan out and might now. My mind is open to what a dream can be. And let's not sleep on January and February. I did some joyful, challenging improv shows, the last on March 8th one of my favorites of all time. I made a quick $200 on a digital sketch. I explored options, which, perhaps, didn't seemingly give me much, but it was information nonetheless. I managed to see at least a dozen plays and kept myself curious about the field.
In the citizen sense I contacted 1000 voters by phone and lit drops for the general election. I wrote more postcards and letters than I can count. I attended a distanced protested for BLM every weekday evening in June. I kept on my journey for I donated more money than ever to people in need and tried to be generous whenever possible. I read for more than pleasure and signed petitions and called my representatives. I often felt scared before these activities, but I did them anyway. I kept walking toward sustainability and away from capitalism.
I think I've even forgotten a bunch of things. Maybe little ones like scrapbooking ten pages or getting everyone's Christmas presents squared away early or making good on self-promises to get down to the pool at least once a week or going weeks without social media. Or big ones that will rise up from the water some years from now.
