Tuesday, December 15, 2009
I have started and restarted this blog a dozen different ways attempting to draw from some analogy that would mask the more venerable and personal aspects of its origin. Screw the analogies. This blog entry is about the raw ugly hard part of life that I don't usually send off into cyberspace for fear that it will taint others' ability to view me in a strictly professional light. However, I honestly believe that the most precious thing we have to offer one another are our stories, because in doing so we can inspire, motivate or even provide accountability to those around us. So allow me to begin by saying 2009 was not my year.
If you had asked me at 21 what the next ten years of my life would look like I'd have told you that I was going to finish my degree, get a job as a photojournalist, travel the world, fall madly in love, and that the rest of my life would be a long string of momentous occasions. Because why the hell shouldn't it be? Here's the truth. Two men have loved me enough to marry me, and those same two men have cheated on me and left me. For five years I immersed myself in all things journalism only to spend two years working in a corporate cubicle before watching my career swirl down the drain before it had really even begun. There are days, today even, when I allow the doubt, the defeat and the resentment to creep in and take hold of my mind and my heart. There have been countless times in my life when the only thing that kept me pushing was knowing that there were people who cared what happened to me even when I didn't. Perhaps that's the trick to a good life; always surrounding yourself with people who are supportive and love you through the tough stuff.
So back to 2009... After a year and a half in my cubicle I had gotten stir crazy and was itching to go back to school. My company had an opening in Tempe, AZ and would help me pay for my MBA at Arizona State. I told myself that if I got that opening it was a sign - I was meant to go. So when I got it, I did. Perhaps I should have seen the red flags popping up when HR messed up my transfer paperwork, or when my car fell off a U-Haul trailer just shy of Palm Springs on the drive over. I tried to stay optimistic and just passed it off as clumsy luck. As my three months in AZ slowly crept by, I found myself dealing with endless HR problems, drama with my ex back in CA, and even went into kidney failure thanks to the triple-digit dry desert heat. I threw in the towel. I shoved as much of my belongings as would fit into my Ford Focus and abandoned the rest. I headed back to NorCal, but this time through Vegas because, hell, who wouldn't have needed a weekend in Vegas at that point. Upon arriving home I didn't even apply for unemployment because I couldn't imagine it taking longer than a couple weeks to start working again. Four months later I found myself caving in and accepting a job pushing papers in a small office for barely over minimum wage. I worked hard and learned quickly and my financial situation slowly began to get better, but only as my personal life once again fell to pieces.
I could easily end this entry there and wait patiently for your, "I'm so sorry!" and "Keep your chin up!" replies, but that's not the point of this entry at all. The point is that 2009 might have topped my list of disastrously disappointing years, but it has been jam packed with adventure.
I went to a rave in Mexico City and got drunk at a soccer bar with the locals. I attended my second Southwestern Photojournalism Conference in Dallas. I had an action packed road trip to Arizona. While I was there, I got to deepen my friendship with one of my dearest girlfriends and hung out with cousins who I grew up only visiting every couple years. I watched the sunset from the top of "A" Mountain and played volleyball in Lake Powell. I road tripped to Vegas... twice. I spent a weekend helping my college best friend pick out a couch for her new apartment three blocks from Venice Beach. I went to a fashion show with an old friend who didn't mind sharing a bottle of cheap wine in soup cups. And perhaps most incredible of all, I watched my nephews start preschool and was able to be around when they began using all sorts of smart words.
2009 can't have been a bad year, it was just a year full of the unexpected. The author of "Eat, Pray, Love" wrote about how agonizing her transition was from who she was before the one-year adventure that became that book and the woman that book allowed her to be. By being stripped of everything she had, including her financial security and her relationship, she found a new and better woman inside herself and began to thrive. I challenge you, I challenge myself - Let 2009 not be a year of brokenness but a year of refiner's fire that segways into a 2010 overflowing with blessings and success.