Today marks three years since the last time I posted something on here. It's a holiday, and it's that time of day where the sun is slowly going down. I'm stressed and exhausted. My will to do things and just be is also slowly going down.
Last night, a thought crossed my mind after spending hours watching Shingeki no Kyojin, and I wrote something - that I'll post after getting over the shame of its contents. All that to say, writing triggered my memory and here I am back at where I've dump some heavy thoughts.
I wrote my first start-of-the-year ramble in 2016, and a second one two years later, so the pattern dictated that I should have written one in 2020, but WHAT A YEAR. In reality, though, I might be one of the few people who did not hate 2020. Granted, there was a pandemic (still ongoing) and a deadly virus (debatable, and still ongoing), but I've had waaaay worse years. 2017 sucked ass. That sentiment accompanied me as I wrote the 2018 ramble. Which explains all the whining and sad shit.
As I was saying. The point of doing this every two years was to see my growth and to reflect on the past and manifest the future.
Let's reflect on the past.
Last year wasn't so bad. In fact, it might've been one of my best years so far. For someone who's always been on the sidelines, always letting life pass her by, watching, not engaging, I did major things. If one wants to be dramatic, and one wants, one might say that I broke the chains that were holding me back. That I tore down the walls around my true self.
It's been exhilarating doing all those things I never did before, out of fear and insecurity. It's not that I'm not scared anymore or less insecure, but those feelings add a tinge of something that make it worth a try. Something along the lines of "it scares me so I should do it and see if I die but then I don't die so I'm glad I did it".
The drawback, though, is that I'm scared and feel insecure about new things which I never prepared for. Foolishly thinking I would never have to experience them. But oh, how I want to experience them. And that is the paradox of being.
And now I see my growth. I have to constantly remind myself that growth is not linear. Growth follows the pattern of time if one thinks of time as a multidimensional, multidirectional thing. It ebbs and flows. It stops and rushes. It follows its own rhythm. Where I am now, is not where I thought I would be by now. What I've gained, it's less than what I've lost, but it weighs so much more.
I've learned to be patient with myself. I've stopped... well, I blame myself and feel guilty not as often. With less malice. Hmm. I think about myself with less malice, also.
Sometimes I fall down so hard I go back to square one -- like that one time I just couldn't anymore. But as I regained my footing, I started to see the signs, and if I feel a little bit more ready to tackle life.
Bottom line is that I'm proud of how far I've come. I'm not as much of a victim of my anxiety as before. I've connected with people. And disconnected from those who subtracted.
I won't be holding myself back, I hope. That I manifest.
I do not know how manifestation works, beyond just putting things out there. But moving forward I want more peace. I want to rest better. I want to find harmony, balance, equilibrium. I want to fall in love. I want to laugh even more. I want to take more risks. I want to be perceived, just a tiny bit.
But all in its due time.
Now the sun is gone, with just a hint of light on the horizon. My will to be is not gone, yet.
So I'll just be for a while.
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