By Deborah Batt
We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
~Joseph Campbell
It was December 31st at 11:30 P.M. I had ducked into the washroom to check my make-up and take a breather. Once again, I had been invited to a party of married couples and those soon-to-be married. Friends and family, but nonetheless still the only awkwardly single, well — divorced and single woman in the room. I did look good though in my little black dress and perfect pumps but really, who was here to notice except my best buddies; my sisters. Their compliments were sweet at the beginning of the evening, and appreciated, but now as I was fast approaching the hour of couples kissing in the New Year those compliments were giving me little solace.
We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
~Joseph Campbell
It was December 31st at 11:30 P.M. I had ducked into the washroom to check my make-up and take a breather. Once again, I had been invited to a party of married couples and those soon-to-be married. Friends and family, but nonetheless still the only awkwardly single, well — divorced and single woman in the room. I did look good though in my little black dress and perfect pumps but really, who was here to notice except my best buddies; my sisters. Their compliments were sweet at the beginning of the evening, and appreciated, but now as I was fast approaching the hour of couples kissing in the New Year those compliments were giving me little solace.
I knew that I would have to face bringing in another year by kissing either the dog or, if I were lucky, I could sneak upstairs to my sleeping nephew and peck his cheek while he lay in his crib. The kissing part was uncomfortable, but really not the worst part of it all. Oh no, that would have to be the proverbial decision to come up with some resolution that I would be able to follow through with for once.
I stared in the mirror for a short time and then decided I should rejoin the others or, heaven forbid, miss out on the whole ritualistic display of affection. But the thoughts continued to cross my mind and then, like a light, it hit me.
This was going to be my year. I was going to make everything happen and why shouldn't I? I would lose those pesky fifteen pounds, eat healthful meals, and start working out with a vengeance. I would meet Mr. Right and we would happily fall into blissful and absolute love within moments of seeing each other across a crowded room. Oh, how romantic! I would write my bestselling novel and be swooped into a book tour across Europe and of course, meet Robert De Niro who was set to play the lead in the film version.
My gosh, my world would be terrific. Never mind these practical and predictable married types and their world of responsibilities, potluck dinners, school plays and bickering over where to put the new sofa. I was going to be fabulous and live a fabulous life and that's all there was to it. What a stupendous dream! And that's exactly what it was — a dream.
I guess no one can predict what's going to happen to them in any given year. I could not have predicted that a colleague would have chosen death over life that New Year's Eve. I couldn't have predicted that in February, I would meet a man who would invite me to an impromptu vacation in Las Vegas, only to be involved in a car crash that killed his best friend hours before we were set to leave. I couldn't have predicted that my four-year-old niece would be diagnosed with cancer, along with my father, and that my mother would battle her cancer again for a second time.
I could not have predicted the challenge of my personal relationships and my decision to end some friendships because they were no longer healthy for me. I could not have predicted the loneliness that came at the end of the year. I couldn't have predicted any of it. But then again, I don't think I could have predicted the lessons I learned either.
I learned that each year brings new hope for things to come and problems are never so big that death should ever be the only answer. I learned that plans change and we need to be flexible, and when I can help someone who has experienced a loss, I want to do it because it makes me feel good to help. I learned to rejoice over the little things and indulge in the simple things, such as spending time with family and friends. I learned that a four year old has more strength than most grown-ups and resilience is indeed a gift. I learned that it's okay to let go of those who don't make us feel good about ourselves, and it's okay to feel lonely every now and then; we're human. And I learned that life is not about predicting what will happen next, but about learning from the moments that will make up the next moments.
It's December 31st again, exactly 11:30P.M., and once again I'm going to make a resolution for the New Year to come. Nothing grandiose, just this: this year I will appreciate the experiences that I am given and hope that through the months to come I will learn a little something about myself, my world, and my life that may just make it a little better than it was before.
I stared in the mirror for a short time and then decided I should rejoin the others or, heaven forbid, miss out on the whole ritualistic display of affection. But the thoughts continued to cross my mind and then, like a light, it hit me.
This was going to be my year. I was going to make everything happen and why shouldn't I? I would lose those pesky fifteen pounds, eat healthful meals, and start working out with a vengeance. I would meet Mr. Right and we would happily fall into blissful and absolute love within moments of seeing each other across a crowded room. Oh, how romantic! I would write my bestselling novel and be swooped into a book tour across Europe and of course, meet Robert De Niro who was set to play the lead in the film version.
My gosh, my world would be terrific. Never mind these practical and predictable married types and their world of responsibilities, potluck dinners, school plays and bickering over where to put the new sofa. I was going to be fabulous and live a fabulous life and that's all there was to it. What a stupendous dream! And that's exactly what it was — a dream.
I guess no one can predict what's going to happen to them in any given year. I could not have predicted that a colleague would have chosen death over life that New Year's Eve. I couldn't have predicted that in February, I would meet a man who would invite me to an impromptu vacation in Las Vegas, only to be involved in a car crash that killed his best friend hours before we were set to leave. I couldn't have predicted that my four-year-old niece would be diagnosed with cancer, along with my father, and that my mother would battle her cancer again for a second time.
I could not have predicted the challenge of my personal relationships and my decision to end some friendships because they were no longer healthy for me. I could not have predicted the loneliness that came at the end of the year. I couldn't have predicted any of it. But then again, I don't think I could have predicted the lessons I learned either.
I learned that each year brings new hope for things to come and problems are never so big that death should ever be the only answer. I learned that plans change and we need to be flexible, and when I can help someone who has experienced a loss, I want to do it because it makes me feel good to help. I learned to rejoice over the little things and indulge in the simple things, such as spending time with family and friends. I learned that a four year old has more strength than most grown-ups and resilience is indeed a gift. I learned that it's okay to let go of those who don't make us feel good about ourselves, and it's okay to feel lonely every now and then; we're human. And I learned that life is not about predicting what will happen next, but about learning from the moments that will make up the next moments.
It's December 31st again, exactly 11:30P.M., and once again I'm going to make a resolution for the New Year to come. Nothing grandiose, just this: this year I will appreciate the experiences that I am given and hope that through the months to come I will learn a little something about myself, my world, and my life that may just make it a little better than it was before.
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