In just 30 days, 2014 will be over. All I can say is, FINALLY. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t like holidays and probably never will. New Year’s Eve happens to be one of my least favs, so that’s not why I’m excited about the end of year. At the risk of sounding like a complete drama queen, 2014 was the worst year of my life, no competition.
A couple of really cool things happened in 2014. I got my first writing job. I did a little bit of traveling. I had a really fun birthday. I became a certified yoga instructor.
Time is an imaginary thing. I would be foolish to believe that a new calendar and arrangement of numbers would somehow make things better for me. But for whatever reason, humans are a sucker for “fresh starts”, and maybe I’m one of them. I don’t typically make New Year’s resolutions unless they’re funny, like “learn the Single Ladies dance” or “wax my vag at home” (neither of these things got accomplished, BTW), and I don’t plan on making any this year either. I’m just feeling hopeful.
When I was in college I definitely enjoyed being single. I have posted a few blogs about the pros of single life. I’d be the biggest liar if I said I preferred single life to having a PIC. Despite how mean and nasty I can be, I am such a “couple” person. I love being in a relationship. I love taking care of someone, and I love being taken care of. 2014 blessed me with a shit storm of dysfunctional, short-lived “relationships” that have honestly left me feeling like a wrung-out kitchen towel.
I thought about using this blog to put all of the men who have disappointed me this year on blast, but really, what good would that do? Calling somebody fat doesn’t make you any skinnier. Anyone? Anyone?
As 2015 comes closer and closer, it gets harder and harder to stay strong, to like myself. So many of my friends have moved on with their lives, getting married, having babies, growing up. I can joke and scoff all I want, but I feel like my world is moving on without me. As I drove home Friday night, crying alone on the 5 freeway after an unnecessary fight with my most recent dude, all I could think was: “What happened to my life?” I don’t want a husband, I don’t want babies. I’m not even sure if I want a real house because like, who’s going to clean it?
It is an age-old adage that you can’t love someone else until you love yourself. I think I have been going through the motions of loving myself. Going to the gym, accomplishing personal goals, shopping, trying. I’d like to sit on my floor and cry and blame the universe for my hurting heart. I’d like to call every guy I’ve ever dated a stupid fucking douchebag and go slash their motorcycle tires.
I have been lucky enough to experience love. Brief, but special, I have shared my heart and reaped the benefits of pure bliss. I’ve woken up next to someone and felt so happy I could cry. I will always do my best to love others (and myself) without judgment, without criticism. Maybe 2015 will bring me a fucking awesome partner. Maybe it will just give me a little more self love.
If there are any other single girls out there reading this who have a broken heart that is somehow, impossibly still filled with hope, I hope 2015 is your year.