Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Year in Review

My Facebook year in review was like a dark comedy. I knew I wouldn't share it -- I didn't even want to see it, but Facebook was bound and determined to force me to acknowledge their creation. However, once I saw how amusingly morbid it was, I kind of wanted to share it but feared my friends wouldn't see the humor since they love me.

Hey guys!

It was a great year, thanks for being part of it!! 
Remember when my dog died? Remember when my dad died? Remember when my grandpa died? Remember my vacation? (cue animated streamers)

Come on. That's funny in an awful way.

I read a few articles about people who were saddened by their year in review videos and although I know how they feel, I also know when you've had a year like that everything in the whole wide world is a trigger anyway. It's not Facebook's fault.

The other day in Target, I saw a wine called "You Handsome Devil" which reminded me of something my dad used to say (about himself), and my face crumpled without warning into ugly, uncontrolled crying right there in the wine aisle on Christmas Eve, much to the bewilderment of (myself and) the wine re-stocking guy who tentatively offered his assistance in choosing a pinot grigio.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night thinking, "I will go crazy if I have to think of any of it for even one more second." Then I try to figure out if I'm already crazy.

Every quiet moment is spent in mental creation of my own year in review, every scene from every angle revisited again and again; half documentary, half horror film. So I spend a lot of my time leaving no room for quiet moments, which is probably why my brain likes to wake up in the middle of the night to say, "Hey, remember that horrible thing you were trying not to think about earlier? We could do it now!"

My year has traumatized me. Without a doubt, it was objectively the worst year of my life. I also had additional heartache left untold here since not every story is solely mine to tell, so suffice it to say, 2014 can SUCK IT. SUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK IT. Suck it. Suck it. Suck it. God, I'm glad to see it go even if I feel like it's stealing a piece of me with it. I will never be the same again, and that is exhilarating and terrifying.

And despite all above evidence to the contrary, I also had a pretty good year.

(I sound even crazier than before, don't I? Now you're concerned.)

I like who I am, even if I don't like what I've gone through. I love what I do, even if it doesn't always ever pay the bills. I have incredible friends and people around me, even if I am not always an incredible friend and person back. I'm happy, even though I'm sad. I'm a great mom, even though I wish I was better. I know things that I am fortunate to know, even if I would rather not know. I feel relief that with the storms brewing and the wind whipping and the rain falling, I have kept a tiny little flame going somewhere and the fact that it's still lit proves that everything will be alright. Ish.

Goddamn Facebook for not making a movie about all of that.

No worries, though. Next year my year in review video will be awesome.

(But I still won't share it because they're boring.)

May we all have 2015s worthy of the Facebook algorithm's artificial excitement. Thanks for being part of it!

3 comments:

Cindy * Daisies and Crazies said...

Man, I wish I could express myself like you can. I guess it's a good thing I don't have any desire to be a writer. Here's to 2015!! xo

Suburban Hippie said...

So I get up early today and I'm sitting on the computer before everyone is awake doing my regular website roundup. For some reason, your blog pops in my head out of the blue. So I google it and see your dad passed away last year from cancer. My mom passed away from cancer 2 weeks ago. I could totally relate to your breaking down in Target. I broke down reading it. Hugs to you. Hopefully you remember this old BBC screen name that I had so you know who the hell is posting this comment. lol.

Ashley McCann said...

Suburban Hippie, I am so happy to see you and hugging you so warmly and closely that it would be a little awkward in real life! Isn't it funny how the universe conspires to connect you to what you need to see/hear/feel? I am so sorry about your mom, and so sad that you've had that experience. I remember at two weeks, reality was starting to try to edge its way back in where it was unwanted since the shock and all the required action ceased. I actually left BBC a few weeks after my dad passed -- life was too precious and real and full of potential to waste time on manufactured drama. I miss everyone, though. Almost.

I hope you're doing as okay as possible. Take care of yourself and do what you need, the rest of the world will get over it. If you need to email someone, even just to say "What the fuck? How did that happen and how did I live through it all?" I am available.