(Un)welcoming a New Year and Reaching for My Toes

I remember watching the ball drop in the living room. Counting down the seconds from 10 to one with such anticipation, like the whole world would be drastically different when the clock struck midnight. Daddy or Heather would grab the pots and pans and hand one to me. With eagerness we would wait until we could be obnoxiously loud on our block. We’d fight to see who could be the loudest. I remember that boundless feeling during those first few minutes of the new year. We’d hug. We’d kiss. A new year of possibilities ahead of us. And then, we’d go back inside and it would be a normal sound level again. You’d let me stay up for a little while longer because that’s just the type of mom you were.

2019 was definitely the hardest year of my life. It started off with loads of disappointment as Henry and I began our journey of wanting to be parents. I lost the most important person in my life - my mom - tragically and unexpectedly. My life was flipped upside down and shattered. I started therapy to initially help deal with the PTSD from that experience, but also simply because life did not feel worth it without my mom. Somehow, through all of this, I finished an intensive 10-month master’s program at Penn, while working a very-demanding full-time job as a nonprofit communications director. I’ve given more blood than I ever thought possible. I had surgery that left me with more questions. I’ve been stuck with needles on a weekly basis. I prayed more than I’ve ever prayed before…for answers, for healing, for survival, for a purpose again.

I honestly did not think I would make it to see 2020, but i did, and as the world counted down the days to a new decade, I was counting down the days until I could put the worst year of my life behind me. What I did not prepare for was the fact that I would be welcoming the first new year without my mom. We rang in 2019 with absolutely no warning that the year ahead of us would be the worst of our lives. I look back on a post I made in the beginning of 2019 and cringe at how naive I was. I was filled with hope and optimism, truly believing that the worst was behind me. Little did I know, it was just getting started.

It’s easy to fall down a hole of questioning why bad things happen to good people. It’s also easy to be upset at the people who you thought would be there, and weren’t. Simply put, life is not fair. I’ve always had a hard time accepting that. I always find myself disappointed by what “should” have happened or why things come so easily to other people but, for me, it’s a constant struggle. My mom used to tell us to reach for our toes for strength. That thought has crossed my mind almost every morning I wake up and dread facing another day without her. While there have been times I have quite literally reached for my toes, I know she meant that sometimes I’d have to pull my strength from a place I didn’t even know existed. She knew it existed, though, because she had to pull strength from that very place many times in her life.

Looking back on the worst year of my life is not easy but looking back on a decade of transformation puts my life in perspective. In the past ten years, I turned my life around. I met the man who would soon be my husband and partner in this beautiful and disastrous life. I changed careers when I did not feel fulfilled, regardless of my fear of failure or my ego telling me I needed to make more money. I faced more than a decade of disordered eating and focused, instead, on intuitive eating and improving my mental health. I went on an alcohol detox for 100 days and learned to stop using alcohol as a coping tool to numb the feelings of unworthiness and anxiety that has followed me my entire life. All of these experiences would lead me to the “worst year of my life” and I am grateful for the wisdom that came with that, as it saved me from an even further deep dive of self sabotage that would have been inevitable had I not had those experiences.

Mom, I feel your strength every day. I am constantly amazed at my ability to keep going, despite the agony and heartache I feel. I know that is you. You’d think by now, I would be unable to feel hope, but I sometimes do. I know that’s also you. I keep reminding myself that, despite your lack of physical presence, you’re still here with me, and that will never change. I’d love it if you could send me some more signs though. I’ve been missing those. I’ve been missing my best friend dearly. I miss your wisdom and your ability to make me feel better no matter what the circumstances. I definitely have needed that these past fourteen months of disappointment and counting. I hear you say “Bonnie, you just have to beeeeelieve,” and I smile because that’s all I can do. I have to believe that better things are coming because what’s the alternative? I know that I cannot give up. I am grateful for the way you raised me because I know that I will never give up. I’ll always keep reaching for my toes.

I love you infinity, Mom.

Love,

Your sweetheart