I have never been so glad to see the end of a year. We have a running saying in our household that the even years always seem to be the worst. 2018 has taken the cake as the mother of all bad years for me. I am not sorry to see the tail end of it, and as ridiculous as it may seem, I am SO SO SO excited for January 1st. There’s a meme floating around that I can 110% drink to:
I used to sit down and write out my annual goals, compare them to the previous year and carry over ones I deem worthy of giving another kick at the can. I’m gonna go ahead and save us all the nonsense and just consider this year as a write off. It hasn’t been my finest, I didn’t reach any goals the way I wanted to, and I’ve struggled to find the lessons in the failures for the most part.
I did manage to quit smoking 3 times. Once for 3 days, once for 2 weeks and until today it was another whopping 9 days. That’s the most time I’ve spent not smoking in about 6 years. Other than that, I have slowly allowed my life to spiral out of my control and now I’m sitting in the wreckage with perfect clarity. I know what decisions I made which led to each failure and breakdown. There isn’t a sweet fucking thing I can do to change anything, so I’m deciding to just accept all my mistakes and go into the new year with perspective. I have a lot of hard decisions to make, and I know now what I lack in my life that I truly need to be my best self. You can’t run from yourself, eventually you’ll catch up.
This will be a quick post as it’s mostly just for me to vent my frustrations about 2018 and my colossal failures. I have lots of healing to do, lots of new game plans to implement, and I just need to do it. I started this blog after my move to help me feel connected. Kind of to myself, kind of to my friends if they chose to read my blurbs, and kind of to any strangers who might find themselves reading Cupcakes & Crankshafts. In some ways it definitely helped me sort out my head, but as I read back through the recent (we’ll use that term loosely as we all know my track record up until now lol) posts that I kept private. They’re sad. Just pitiful. I have been feeling disconnected from myself for a long time now and this pure shit year has forced me to look at myself thoroughly. I deleted the posts I’d chosen not to publish because to be honest, they’re not me. They were sad moments I had, each carrying a similar theme. I am a bit of a fuck up, and all I’ve done is bury my head in the sand and just remain optimistic that things would work out the way I desperately want them to. I should know by now that life doesn’t work this way. This year has tested my sanity, my loyalties, my friendships, my relationship, and everything I have worked so hard towards. I refuse to be that sad version of myself anymore so fuck those posts, fuck this stupid year, and fuck every decision I’ve made that has brought me to my knees. I’m over being sad about it all.
Gonna start 2019 off with a fresh mental slate. Clearly the approaches I’ve been taking haven’t worked, so now it’s time for a new plan of action. I have to start over on pretty much all levels and in order to do that, I have to accept where I am. I have to accept that I allowed myself to slip into a different me and that’s someone I don’t want to be. So I have to make changes. This year has shown me that sometimes what I think is strength is really weakness. And vice versa. I’ve finally learned to stand up for myself, I’ve learned how toxic resentment is, and I’ve learned that I need certain things around me to be happy. Now that I am being brutally honest with myself, I am slowly making plans to ensure I get those things back and can get myself back. I MISS ME. I miss happy. I miss healthy.
If anyone else has had one hell of a year, cried too many tears to admit, felt like less than worthy of anything, or just plain old didn’t fuck with 2018, I GOT YOU. I’m gonna chronicle my journey back up from the abyss. Fuck all the glamorous “Insta Worthy” lifestyles we ogle daily. If that’s what you’re looking for, I am not your girl lolol. I will be showcasing my definitely-not-insta-worthy recovery and life, and maybe someone else out there will be able to learn from a mistake or two of mine, or be able to feel like they’re not alone if your life has shit the bed this year too. Growing pains in spades. So this year can kindly fuck off, and hellooooooo 2019; we are anxiously awaiting your blessed arrival. Bring wine. And winning lotto numbers. And a better sense of humour than your predecessor cause wtf was that???