by 
The past informs the future.
I chose HOPE as my word for 2021. After experiencing deep grief in 2020, I wanted to look for silver linings and meaning for the sorrow I was experiencing. I thought that HOPE would serve as a helpful guide after feeling hopeless and defeated.
So for this entire year, I have looked for hope, practiced hope and learned so much about cultivating hope. The thing with choosing a theme is that it shows up in unexpected ways.
Hope didn’t show up easily for me. It felt like I clawed my way out of hopelessness this year. Just when things felt like they were going to work out, a setback would occur. This year felt like a treadmill of 2 steps forward, 1 step back and it was exhausting.
However, HOPE did show up. It shined its way through the darkness and by the end of the year, I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. This light showed up because of one emotion that permeated my being for most of the year; anger.
My anger was an alchemist this year.
To be honest, I can’t remember a time when I have felt so much rage in my life. It felt like a fire that burned deep within me. It was stoked by memories of past events, current issues and the grief that was left unresolved. This anger was like a wildfire, burning through everything in its path, including my marriage. I was mad and nothing was getting in the way of the burning.
Hopelessness and anger became the catalyst for change.
I vividly remember my breaking point when I dialed for help. The woman asked me several questions including the address of my location “I’m sitting in my car at the mall.” I said through tears as I continued to answer her questions. She told me about an app for depression and let me know a therapist would be in touch.
Through therapy, I worked through years of piled up grief. I thought I had already done the work, but grief doesn’t just go away. It can be rekindled with new grief. My infertility was the new grief which reminded my soul of all the other sorrows that were buried deep within.
Writing was an alchemist this year.
After saying “no” to a book contract in the beginning of the year, I started writing the book that has been on my heart for several years. Aside from therapy, I joined a grief writer’s group. There were three of us in the group and we held each other accountable in our goal of writing our next books. I finished writing my book in August and am in the process of finding an agent/publisher for it.
My writing changed through this process. With the keen eyes and encouragement of my fellow writers, I wrote out my truth and found meaning in the hard stuff, joy in the triumphs and recognized the bravery and resilience in my spirit. I also recovered the deep well of love within in me.
My marriage was an alchemist this year.
We walked through this wildfire together. At times, it was traumatic. My husband’s COVID, my anger and grief, business stress and the dreams we held on so dearly needed to be released: buying a home and giving birth. We let go again and again, surrendering to the unknown. In the end, we emerged closer with a deeper empathy and understanding of ourselves and each other.
Marriage is a container where the worst parts of you can emerge. It’s also a healing container, if both partners are willing, to allow painful transformations to take place with love. There isn’t a day that I’m not deeply grateful for this love.
Alchemy creates space.
Letting go has created space. I am excited to see what all this space will be filled with. I have a feeling it’s going to be pretty amazing since SO much space has been created.
Hope showed up through the fire, purifying and making elemental changes. This year was an alchemist and after everything, I feel hope-full.
Photo Credit: Kim Belverud Photography
