My Year in Review: I Achieved Most of My Dreams—Except One

Opportunity knocked at my door, and I left my journal on the bedside to molder.

Photo credit: Stacy, CC BY 2.0.

2016 has been a fantastic, challenging, magical year.

You may recall that last year I swore up and down and all around that I would be devoted to putting pen to paper. Alas, the one area of my life I committed to focusing on is, naturally, the one most neglected. I was just asking for it by writing it down and committing, wasn’t I? Opportunities were knocking on my door all year, but writing was never the opportunity standing at the threshold.

I chose to open the door, and left my journal on the bedside to molder.

My Best Self Writes and Writes and Writes

Most of these opportunities were financial. I received a fantastic deal on rent by caretaking a home and its immense garden. I got a fulfilling part-time job at a Farmers’ Market (though the 5:30 AM wake up on Saturday morning is rough). I was promoted at my dream job. I want to tuck my good fortune inside an acorn, and squirrel it under my pillow so it will never leave me.

I want to tuck my good fortune inside an acorn, and squirrel it under my pillow so it will never leave me.

So much abundance in so little time meant no spare hours in which to pursue writing. In fact, it was only just this week that I had enough free time for my first binge watch in four months. I know what you’re thinking: “Dear God, woman, what were you DOING that you had no time to binge Netflix?!”

Well, I accomplished a lot of dreams. I traveled. Oh, I TRAVELED. A two-week, dreamy National Parks road trip out West, three trips home to Ohio, and visits to the Bahamas, Gatlinburg and the Smokies, New Orleans, Chattanooga, Nashville, Atlanta, San Antonio, Fairhope, and Charleston.

I completed Ashley Horner’s Charlie Mike program and got in the best shape of my life.

The Cost of Working Out (For Work)

I went to a hundred community events and festivals and store openings and weddings and stuffed fun into my mouth.

I achieved more this year than I have ever achieved before. I lived richly. But I didn’t write.

I learned to leave the words alone, though I still felt their letters crammed inside my stomach. I am too drained, I would say. My creative juices had seeped out onto the floor by five o’clock. My journal became grocery lists and meeting times and appointments, with hardly a doodled flower in the margins to give it life. There were no scribbled literary quotes in the “notes” — just another reminder to buy conditioner.

I achieved more this year than I have ever achieved before. I lived richly. But I didn’t write.

But there is a pale yellow winter’s light at the end of the year. Because all of my jobs revolve around the seasons, I am finally skidding into the slow months. In winter, the forest at which I work sleeps. The garden sleeps. The market closes, and the farmers finally get a brief rest. And so do I. In this slower season, I’m looking forward to writing.

I’ll risk it again. This year, I say, I’ll write.

Rachel Ahrnsen lives in the unexpected paradise of Birmingham, Alabama.

This article is an update to The Billfold’s 2015 end-of-year series, “Our Best Selves in the Coming Year.”