Sometimes, I fall into the trap of believing that I am the most unsuccessful, incapable person that has ever existed. I look at the list of my accomplishments, and they’re always towered by my list of ‘to do’s.’ I’m never content with myself, because I have an unreasonably high standard for myself. My brain both amazes and frustrates me. As I always do around this time, I’ve began to reflect on what this past year has been, and what I want the year approaching to be. The changing of seasons and the new year stir a desire to change in me – it feels like a turning of a chapter in life. I figured, what better way to begin shaping my new year, than to revisit the goals I (boldly, publicly) set for 2025. If you don’t remember, because I definitely didn’t, here’s a quick recap: Run a half-marathon; Run the Sydney Marathon; Visit America; Road-trip around Tasmania; Make more time for girl friends; Complete the first draft of my new novel; Visit Bali or New Zealand; Stay consistent with weekly hair-oiling; Stay consistent with skincare routine; Blog once a week; Enroll in graduate studies; Listen to a devotion everyday; Become a better friend; Monthly therapy; Speak kinder to yourself and others; Write and stick to a budget.
Wow. What a list. Let’s start with the positives, the goals I can put a satisfying check mark beside. I ran two half-marathons, officially. I’m not going to count the times I ran this distance in my training, but I’d count this as a win, especially because I did it twice. I ran the Sydney Marathon, it was both the best and worst thing I’ve ever done. I visited America, even saw Brad Pitt and a Broadway play. I planned and executed a ten day, campervan trip around Tassie with my friend Sarah, culminating in the most stunning sunset and sunrise at Boat Harbor beach. Last week, I completed the first draft of my thriller; that’s two first drafts for this year. I’d say for a list this long, I crossed off more than I thought I would, and these were considerably harder than the others. Really, do you understand how hard it was to drive a campervan, on the opposite side of the road, on a bumpy road, in the dark, when you’re looking for a camping spot that may or may not exist? These experiences filled my heart with joy. But where there was so much to be happy and proud of myself for, there also felt like a hundred times where I failed.
Become a better friend, make time for girl friends. Two huge goals of mine. My toughest challenge of this year. Do you know how many times someone has told me they can’t be my friend this year? Three times. Each time, it felt like a bigger blow than the last; a knife pushing deeper into my chest for the killing strike. I’d say that’s been the hardest part of 2025, of living abroad, is my now lack of close companionship. There’s been a few friends that have emerged, that have stuck with me through the fire and the trials, but the weight of what I’ve lost, sometimes I feel unable to carry it. But amazingly, each time I’ve almost slipped and fallen, someone new has come along to help me shoulder the burden. It’s in these times that I’ve often thought of Moses in Exodus 17:12. Though he had faith, his strength was failing; he needed other believers to hold him up to win the war. This year has been a war, for my mental health, for my faith, and I couldn’t have made it through without the people who have held me together. Because not only did I lose friends, I’m still healing from my divorce, from the death of my father, and the death of another family member. This year was gain, but it was also such deep grief. In all the accomplishments, each time I achieved what I thought would make me happy, in my heart, I was met with an empty feeling.
This year, I was reminded that I could achieve all of my goals, I could have every earthly treasure, but if I did not have God’s love, and if I didn’t seek Him first, all of it was worth nothing. I didn’t keep up with my praying or Bible reading, but I did do a lot of reflecting, specifically on the fruits of the spirit, and 1 Corinthians 13. No matter what I say, no matter what I believe, and no matter what I do – I am bankrupt without the love and hope of Christ. Sometimes, it takes standing on the mountaintop with all you thought would make you happy, to realize that true joy can only be found in One place. There were deep valleys and tall mountains this year, but I’m thankful that, through it all, I was never really alone.
I wrote a poem almost two years ago, when I was suffering through the worst of what life has given me. It was after the divorce papers were sent, after that awful night after Thanksgiving, after I lost every part of me, and I was struggling to fit all the pieces of me back into someone who could feel alive again. This poem is one of the first semblances of hope I had, and in the difficult times this year, I’ve often read it back as a reminder to myself. I almost published my poetic memoir this year, but I stopped myself. My story is still too real, too raw, to put on display for everyone to see. But maybe, piece by piece, I’ll reveal more of my deeper journey with the world. For now, here’s the mantra I repeated on the worst of my days:
And if all I’ve done today,
is risen out of bed.
Breathed in fresh air,
pushed past the dread.
If I’ve only opened my eyes,
refused to be griefs slave;
then that is a win,
and I can call myself brave.
If I’ve walked two steps,
ten or twenty;
then I can go to sleep at night
knowing I’ve given plenty.
If I’ve had nightmares again
and found sleep vain,
I should be proud of myself for waking;
pushing through the pain.
If my eyes are weary
from preventing tears to fall;
I should allow them to come,
knowing they don’t make me small.
When I don’t feel joy,
yet smile anyway;
I can find hope for myself
that this pain won’t stay.
When I look to the road
and only see a mountain to climb,
the trials to face
that will all come in time.
I can glance behind me
to where I’ve already been;
I can find strength in my journey,
a light from within.
When I think of the words
that were poured out upon me,
the shoves and the screams;
life trapped in hostility.
I can remember the love
spoken from my friends,
which gave me the courage to say,
“this is where it ends.”
And if all I’ve done today,
is risen out of bed;
found hope in the sun,
chosen life instead.
Then I can find myself grateful
for the battles I’ve won;
look forward to the future
and all I’ll become.
The bright side is, each year, we are becoming. The real question is, who are we becoming? Who are we allowing the pain, the loss, the wins, the accomplishments, to make us? As I reflect on this year and look forward to the next, I want to use these experiences – all of them – to become a better person. A better listener, a better friend, a better daughter, a better worker, a better Christian. So, here’s to another year of breaking, only to be built into exactly who I’m supposed to be.
Yours Truly,
the Brightside Blonde