“Maybe our mistakes are what make our fate. Without them what would shape our lives? Perhaps if we never veered off course we wouldn’t fall in love or have babies or be who we are. After all seasons change. So do cities. People come into you life and people go. But it’s comforting to know the ones you love are always in your heart and, if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.” ~The ever-wise, albeit fictional, Carrie Bradshaw (“Sex and the City”)
Many folks take the start of a new calendar year as an opportunity for fresh starts and change. Personally I think it’s more appropriate to make resolutions on my birthday. It feels more natural to take stock of my life that time of year, to review lessons learned in the past year, and to make a few goals for the year ahead.
A year ago last week (my birthday was Tuesday) I turned 27 and decided I was going to make the year all about me (The Year of Flower I called it in my journal and aloud to a select group of friends). I don’t have any dependents, not even a dog or a goldfish, to rely on me; my life in general is already pretty much all about Tracey, but for most of my adult life (aka my life since college) I have been in some form of a relationship. I moved to Colorado for a boyfriend and shortly after we broke up I started another serious relationship and, as my 27th birthday approached, I started to get the feeling I wasn’t totally making decisions for my life based on what I wanted and needed.
My birthday last year came just days after the guy I was in love with left Vail to move home to Australia. Our relationship over the past few months had been complicated and tumultuous and because I was so invested in, so wrapped up in, him emotionally I found my day-to-day actions and decisions were heavily influenced by him. It seemed like the perfect time, then, when he left and my birthday arrived for me to take charge.
I made myself a list of goals. First and foremost I was going to get my head straight about that relationship. The first goal I wrote in my journal then was to be “happily single.” We had left things very casual and, although he was on my mind when I wrote that, I was fed up with myself for letting another person inadvertently control my thoughts and decisions to the extent that he had. I also wrote that I wanted to learn to cook, to get fit, to get paid to write, and to travel somewhere new. The Year of Flower was going to be a good one.
The first half of the year, the first third really, went exactly how I had hoped it would (OK except for the cooking part, I’m still working on that one). I will even say it was the happiest, the most content, and the most confident I have been in a long time. The last four months of the year, however, were a complete disaster. Quite honestly they were the worst four months of my life (if you read Flower Blog on a regular basis you know this. If you don’t now’s probably a good time to catch up. Start here). As I approached my 28th birthday last week and mentally reviewed the last year, and checked back in with last year’s goals, I realized I was right smack dab back where I had been a year ago. And that pissed me off.
I got my heart broken. No shattered. No ripped out, stomped on, and shoved back into my chest all achy and torn apart. And for that I was pissed. My anger wasn’t directed at The Guy though; or rather my anger was no longer directed at him (don’t you worry three months ago I was oozing anger toward him). I was pissed off with myself. I was pissed that I let myself, in the year where I was supposed to be taking control, find myself in a position (with a guy who had broken my heart once before) where I could get as hurt as I did. I was pissed that even while I thought I was finding this great balance in my life, while I thought I was being unapologetically selfish and, dare I say it, finding myself, I let my love for this one stupid guy ruin everything.
My dad told me a few months ago, when I was at my very worst, that even as I struggled to figure out how to forgive The Guy (not because he deserves or even needs my forgiveness but simply because it’s very tiresome to carry around that much anger toward someone for any length of time) that I was also going to have to forgive myself. At the time I had no idea what he meant (the situation wasn’t my fault, I had done nothing wrong). I think I get it now, though.
There’s a line in the book Eat, Pray, Love that goes like this; “To lose balance sometimes for love is part of living a balanced life.” The author tells herself this when she realizes she has fallen in love with a man after a year spent traveling solo, doing some serious soul-searching, and finding her balance. I agree with that, but I would take it a step further and say sometimes you have to become unbalanced for love even if it means risking your heart. Because apparently, OK admittedly, you'll learn some serious lessons about life and yourself. I don’t know if acknowledging that counts as forgiving myself, because to be honest I’m still a little pissed, but I think maybe it’s a start. And with that shaky start I begin a new year.
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