The Year of the Tiger

 Happy New Year, lads!

Normally, the tradition was that I would write a blog post on the last day of the year and reminisce about the horrors of the previous twelve months... but I am at a point in my life where what I believe to be my ADHD is so bad that I can barely keep it together--this blog post is more shocking to me, the writer, than to you, dear reader... because I am baffled I have even gathered enough mental focus to write it (and I might be calling that prematurely... after all, what are only four lines of ramblings). 

On the surface, it would appear that 2022 was a very good year for me, and in many, many ways it was. I finished my hellish ride through nursing school, moved out of my parents' house, and finally started making some much-needed income (and spending it like there is no tomorrow). But the reality is that 2022 was one of the most brutal years when it comes to my mental and physical health. I do not know if it is the result of the nursing school trauma (I daresay it is), or the years of suffering that have finally taken their toll on me. All I know is that I am deeply sick--in my body, in my mind, and in my soul. 

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I do not recognize myself at all. I no longer see beauty, zest, vibrance. The extra weight, the wrinkles, the saggy bits, the even more receding hairline, the flatness of my once abundant mane. The absolute hurt in almost every joint. The lack of flexibility and mobility. The mental fog. The sheer exhaustion that doesn't seem to be healed with hours upon hours of sleep. The now dimmed spark.

Where did I go? Who did this to me? And why did I let them?

The first half of the year was hard because school had pushed me to the brink, and I had one particular professor who seemed hell-bent on getting rid of me. The summer was grueling with its overstimulation, its pre and post-NCLEX stress, its COVID perfect storm that ravished my body, and its share of novelty. At some point during the summer, I was convinced that the insomnia and the restlessness meant I had finally cracked and gone insane. Then the last part of the year was a sobering wake up call to the realities of nursing--including the cruelty of seasoned nurses who cannot care less whether you sink or swim. Then came deaths of patients... and my heart cracked more and more. 

My sister got married, my brother made fun of me during the toast at the wedding.
Then my brother got married (to the Church), and everyone around me was the happiest they've ever been.
Then I realized, at long last, that I ain't going to be marrying a man or the Church (or, in my case, as a woman, be a bride of Christ). I finally got the message, in 2022, that God has not intended for me to be a nun, or a wife, or a mother. Because a God who loves me wouldn't be withholding on any of those things until I learned a valuable lesson or became a better person (I've seen people who are much worse than me go on and find love, after all). So if I am going to go on believing that God exists and loves me and has a plan for my life, I must conclude that--for whatever reason--that plan does not include a family or a religious community. I can't realistically keep saying I just need to be patient until God sends me a husband. I am 35 years old. If God wanted to send me a husband, He would have sent me one by now. 

So, here's to a sobering 2022, to mind-numbing 2022, to record-breaking 2022, to heart-bursting-with-pride 2022. A year equal parts haunting and beautiful, challenging and rewarding, heartbreaking and life-changing. 

And here's to 2023. My only hope is that I might find the pieces of myself that I lost along the way and figure out a way to put them back together. Thank you for being here, reader. You are, as always, the realest.