The End That is the Beginning

The opportunity to rebuild is sometimes discovered in chaos and brokenness.

It’s not sexy to write about your present, unless you’re out there killin’ it. Nobody really cares when you’re living an average life. Yet, we all start somewhere — even the presently successful people. I want to write about my journey in the present because I think it’s more accurate to write about it here and now, than with the rose-colored lens of retrospect.

One day, I’ll look back on this time capsule memoir, and relish in the memory.

We’re one-sixth of the way through the year — already. It’s almost the end of February 2021. I don’t know about you, but, for me, 2021 has seemed like a repeat nightmare of last year. I started the year with so much hope for my future: I was about to launch my real estate career in a booming market, my almost five-year long relationship was headed toward marriage, and I thought my life was finally becoming stable.

…Until, my relationship totally combusted due to a freak circumstance, and I was left homeless. Thankfully, I have friends that are family, and I was able to find shelter with them. But it required relocating to a remote area in the mountainside. I had to say goodbye to my upbeat life in the city and embrace the solitude of the mountains.

January was rough. I slept too much. Cried too much. I ate my weight in cookies. I drank too much wine, beer, tequila, gin, rum, vodka, and whiskey — you name it, I probably drank the whole damn thing. My friends are saints though, and they let me polish off everything with total grace. Everything felt like a blur. If I wasn’t hungover, I was sad, and I was also in denial about everything that had happened. I lost everything — my career, my relationship, my home, my sense of self-worth — and it was hard to swallow that horse pill.

Yet, despite losing it all, I kept writing and I kept going in my life.

I kept exercising.
I kept healing.
I kept believing.

Then February rolled around.

February shot me in the leg. It was a way worse emotional rollercoaster than January, and all of the deep, underlying stuff that I didn’t know still existed in my soul went nuclear. It’s been a shit-show. I’ve barely slept. I’ve been drinking way too much coffee, and still too much alcohol. My body’s been wrecked by the sleep deprivation, lack of nutrition (as any vegetable I’ve consumed this month has been negated by the alcohol I’ve consumed), and emotional hijacking, to the point where I’ve broken out in stress hives. My workouts have also slacked because of all the aforementioned. And the weather has been batshit.

Yet, despite the torrential downpour that’s been February (both literally and metaphorically), I’ve managed to find my direction in life.

I’ve managed to create awesome things.
I’ve managed to start rebuilding my self-worth.
I’ve managed to find acceptance.
I’ve managed to find joy.

And, most importantly, I’ve managed to find love in all the right places.

It’s been a difficult year already, but I want to remember that, as hellish as it’s been, I’m doing so much better than I otherwise might see on a daily basis. I’m on the right track, and I know it. I look forward to what the next couple months bring.

Until then —