This morning, I woke up with grey skies in an off-grid house encapsulated in forest next to the man I love.
I got to enjoy his lovely family (and his sister’s excellent food) with him again.
Just a weekend like any other. Just as magic as the last one.
Weekends of wine tasting and hiking and learning to play. Weeks of business building and kid care and making it work.
One year. It’s almost been one year.
It seems almost impossible.
This year, I’ve grown so much more than I could have imagined. I exchanged my one-woman-writer shop for a team of ten and a business that is on fire. I changed my hair, my clothes, my relationships, my house (twice).
Looking back at everything I’ve written over the past year, I am sobbing because I still can’t believe how good this has been, how good it is. I am bursting at my seams with gratitude and joy, because even when it is so difficult I’m not sure I can go another step, I am still so, so lucky.
I left so much behind, and in return, I gained so much more. Everyday, a little more falseness falls away. Layers continue to shed, and things drop away that were never mine to begin with. People who acted like they cared (until, of course, I became happy and successful) have disappeared. Some days, I feel so light I could almost fly. Others, I feel raw and exposed. Both are necessary to continue on.
Things are still evening out after a year marked with turmoil and sweat and sun-kissed days I’ll never forget. I am learning to believe in what’s possible, not just what is. And I’ve never felt so certain of what I want. Of how little I want. Of how content I am with tiny dreams filled with laughter and long walks.
I have so far to go still. But it feels so close. Until then, it’s only a matter of learning to live in the present.
Should be easy after all this, right?