One wall is January; very clean and pristine but with a slight crack in the plaster. Ambitions were there, fresh optimism at the ready, and my two feet got yanked. What started as a sturdy beginning soon showed me that changes were a’comin’. Some I had a say in, many I didn’t.
Another wall is February; a kaleidoscope of pagan possibilities as I attended my first Pantheacon. I glimpsed into a different aspect of the community I’ve been a part of for about 16 years and realized, hey, I think I have something I could contribute! Writing mojo was reignited and ideas for how to progress on my path were created.
April’s wall steps right out of an 1980’s arcade with it’s dark paint and neon Tron accents. My birthday month showed me once again how lucky I am to have the friends I have. Plus, I enjoy how they accept me for Me, especially when I relish my inner kid by dressing up steampunk and playing Tempest. With beer.
September’s wall is full of rapidly placed punch holes and grab holds where I expressed my frustration, anger, disappointment, and yet again got my feet yanked out from under me. I did my best to regain my footing. When roommate started drinking again, my intent to manifest grew exponentially. I found my new apartment in under a week and a half.
This next wall is an interesting specimen; part shiny gold and part deepest, voidy black. October was definitely a month of “Here’s something positive for you that you needed to do for yourself, but oh hey, mind your head because I’m yanking that rug…..” SMACK!
November’s wall is a wall of fog. There and yet, nothing there. Merely exists. Floating.
Finally, the last wall is covered in evergreen; very intense, very devoted, and extremely patient as it heals my bumps, bruises, and breaks. December has been calm and joyous and uplifting.
I said eight walls, didn’t I? Well, the eighth wall is the one keeping all the others from tumbling down. It is there for support and structural integrity. Let’s call this wall “Steve”**. Without this wall, which was constructed by my friends/community/family/co-workers, I believe I would’ve stayed down for the count after the first rug pull.
2011 was a year that shook me out of my complacency. I re-learned my sense of mortality, along with a new appreciation for my health. I’m 41 years old with no major diseases, health issues, injuries, or maladies. I am thankful I can still move and get around on my own. My body is a fucking awesome machine and I learned how to utilize it and keep its cogs cogging.
I was reminded that life is too short and too rare to put up with crap that keeps you down.
I also learned that no matter how much we hope and dream and wish it to be true otherwise, loved ones won’t accept help they don’t want. Remember their life is exactly that — their life. You can only do what you can do.
2011 wasn’t a complete ass, it also awarded me with recognition at my office (promotion and TWO raises), wonderful parties, festivals, two lovely autumn evenings, and knitting retreats.
2011 also showed me, three times actually, that no matter how harrowing of a situation I am experiencing….I am never alone. From my brush with skin cancer, to my move out of a toxic environment, to the loss of a dearly loved friend, the PTB showered me with friends who, in my humble opinion, fucking kick ass. I consider myself a damn resilient woman, but I would be a fool to say I could have handled all of this on my own. I couldn’t. I didn’t. My friends wouldn’t let me. 🙂
2012 will be here shortly. The wounds are finally healing. The light is peeking eagerly around the corner, ready to pounce on me when I’m ready. My eyes are starting to smile again and my ears are rejoicing at the sound of my laughter.
The rug has been put back and it ties the 2011 room together nicely.
**For those of you at home with your decoder rings, that’s the secret word for “L O V E “.