Reflection on a Rainy Afternoon

In the first few months of 2019, had intended to post a nice “Year in Review,” chronicling how I spent 2018 and what it brought to me. For whatever reason, that review never came. Perhaps I was just too busy, or melancholy, treading the brambly path in the woods known as fading romance. Maybe I was trapped in my thoughts, too lost in them to rekindle the love that was in front of me. I started 2019 happy, only to quickly fall off the high beam, into depression.

In January and February, the end of winter proved as dark and dismal as it tends to be. Nonetheless, I started to find happiness come April. A new love came and went, as it so often does, and the drizzly, head-spinning spring came to an end as though it had just started. Then, came the sun.

This summer was one unlike any other. I sang, I danced. I made friends and lost some. I sobbed in despair and shed tears of joy, growing and changing along the way. People in my life went through things that are impossible to describe. Everyone burst, like flowers in bloom, into new versions of themselves… bigger versions. Better or worse versions? Only time will tell. But many have changed this year, including myself, and I believe it could be for the better.

I’ve spent the second half of 2019 single, and it has been nice to have some time and freedom to live as I please. Unfortunately, as the sky became darker again, my demeanor did too. Things started to seem worthless again. Futile. I was beginning to feel listless, lethargic, and unsure of my life path. Chronic pain had me in its grip, and it felt useless to try and escape.

One December day, I was starting to feel lower than I knew how to handle, so I left my house on impulse and went to the gym. The adrenaline shocked my system and got me out of my head for a little. Then, I kept going– every other day when I could manage. I started to feel genuinely better. The holidays came and went, I saw family, some near and some far. Overall, I’ve had holidays better and holidays worse. Then, came the new year, and I celebrated with friends the beginning of 2020 and my 22nd birthday.

Contrary to what many are saying about their year, I think 2019 was the best year I’ve had in a while. I managed my anxiety better, faced my depression and kept climbing my way out. I spent more time happy, rather than sad, than I have since early middle school. Sure, there were some rough points, but I refuse to let those define what was an overall amazing year full of growth and adventure. Now, I face the new horizons with a sense of strength and resilience, like I am better equipped than ever to face anything life throws at me.

Overall, the world seems to be struggling. Many are divided by their views, their actions, or their ideas about where the future will, or should, take us. I find this overarching outlook to be stressful, somewhat futile, and downright depressing. Do I care about what happens to the world? Of course. I do not, however, feel the need to contribute to the mass hysteria that has overtaken most everyone I know. The moment is now, and the future is inevitable. For me, in 2020 I will see my own future clearly, as it seems as though the world’s future is blurry and difficult to discern. No rose-colored glasses for me this year, but I won’t need them.

I’m better at sniffing out the roses now.

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