be present to what is.

the only words that are coming to me, as an intention for this year, are “be present to what is.”

i’ve been wondering why this new year isn’t hitting the way it usually does. i am a dreamer and a planner and i love a fresh start. new years is, typically, my favorite holiday. lauren and i usually throw a big party. once we held a vision board party on new year’s day. our apartment floor was dripping with people and magazine clippings- queers take manifestation very seriously. it was like a dream sequence- morning light flooding the living room, groups of my favorite people sharing their hopes and visions for the coming 365 days, eating snacks and making new friends, in my home. it was the year i was desperate to step out of my role as perfect host and “housewife”. everyone who came to the party was shown where the mugs were and the hot tea kettle and the treats to eat, and they were told very explicitly to help themselves. i wanted to work on my vision board, too, not just make space for everyone else.

i didn’t have high hopes for this year. i needed more time to reflect on 2020 as a whole: the year i lost my business. the year lauren got fired. the year we moved away from the only city i’ve ever loved- new york. the year we took to the streets and fell asleep to fireworks and sirens nonstop for 2 months (4 months?). the year we were relegated to our fire escape as our only outdoor space until finally, sweetly, we came to have a backyard. - and we are the lucky ones. the luckiest, most privileged and it shook our worlds to the core. the grief had time and space to settle right in thanks to the christmas break from work.

by new years, it was clear that a vision board was a tall order. we painted our bathroom instead. by january 5th i was only mildly surprised that the urge to sit down and make my list of goals and hopes wasn’t coming. the only words to come to me were “be present to what is”. i realized i’d been compartmentalizing, dissociating, away from my body, away from this experience because it was too painful.

at least i could stand behind that statement.

that’s about the only commitment i can make to myself at the moment. by january 6th, if i’d been subconsciously holding off on hopes and dreams for fear that the world would collapse before i even had a chance to get started, i was validated. i know it’s a red, waving flag of depression when you start thinking “why bother?” but honestly. why fucking bother?

let this be but a moment.

i can commit to trying again tomorrow. i’ll rise and find ways to do better, because it’s not just about me, is it? i won’t get sucked into depression or pulled away from an action plan to work towards a better future for me and mine, and my greater community. but for today, the grief is here. she walked in with a suitcase and made herself comfy on the living room couch. she can’t stay in the guest room. she knows her welcome is limited. let’s pray that’s enough.