On this, your last day, I want to tell you a few things. New Year’s Eve has often been a depressing time for me, because it’s a time of evaluating the past year and thinking about hopes for the new one. When I was running low on hope, I tried to ignore the occasion as much as possible. But you deserve better.
First, thank you for existing at all. On my personal timeline, I mean…I could quite easily have never experienced you.
Thank you for letting me spend all of your days out of an institution. Not that there would have been any shame in needing some inpatient psych care, but I am happy to skip the drama and the cost.
Thanks for bringing so much new truth into my life, even though it’s hard for me to take sometimes.
My old habits want to name and define you by some of the difficult things that happened. My old habits want to tag you with the names of my failures or my incomplete successes. But I shall try to name you using new perspectives.
Shall I christen you in Latin, like the expression A.D. (anno domini, meaning “in the year of our Lord”)? Instead of anno domini 2013, shall I call you anno libertatis 3, in honor of my time of freedom from active addiction?
Or shall I call you anno auditoris 1, because you were the year I got the privilege of listening to my daughter in a new way?
Perhaps I will name you anno scripturae 1, because you were the year I began to write again. How, knowing that, can I ever see you as anything but wonderful?
But I think I will name you more generally for the truth you brought to me and to those I love. That truth, after all, spawned or supported these other things. Let me honor you for being the year of truth…the year I learned hard truths and didn’t run away from them; the year new wounds were exposed so that they can begin to heal. The year I began to express my truth in a new way and allow it to be what it is.
So farewell, anno veritatis 1, and welcome to anno veritatis 2. I will try to make you worthy of that name.