I was unhappy with my job, I didn’t want to live where I was living, I did not have a strong community or friend group, I was dealing with outdoor-related injuries, I was chubby, I was depressed, my car had broken down, my grandma passed away from COVID, and I was living with my boyfriend in what I thought was a healthy relationship.

Then he pulled the plug.

Given everything that was going on, I was clearly depending on my boyfriend for a lot (too much) at the time. I knew it too. But I was hoping he would understand that I was going through a dark phase and would come out of the other side wiser and stronger. Instead, he confirmed my worst fears by blaming the end of our relationship on me. His words were: “You need to get help. I can’t take care of you anymore. I deserve better.” He had already coordinated with his family and his friends before telling me. It was the most lurching betrayal I could have imagined.

I’ve told this chain of events 100 times and writing it out turns this story into a gross litany of complaints. But recovery sometimes involves reflecting on all the little details.

I moved home with my parents, quit my job, reached out to old friends to rebuild my community, bought a new car, and moved to Brazil for a couple months. I surfed, did yoga, and completed self-help exercises every day during my time down there. I made amazing friends, allowed myself to wholly and joyfully rest, connected with the land and the culture more than I could have dreamed, and I came back a goddess. I was the most tan and toned I had ever been. I had been living alone in a foreign country and found magic and love at every corner.

I returned home for the summer to work, mountain bike, hike, and dance at outdoor bluegrass concerts. I was living out of my truck and working three jobs, so it was chaotic and busy, but it was damn fun. I continued to make new friends, explore some of the more remote areas of my hometown, and put money in the bank.

In the fall, I left again for more solo travel. I had planned an extensive three-month road trip to the east coast and to the south because I hadn’t spent any time in those parts of the country. I was gone for 80 days, stayed in 26 different states, put 12,000 miles on my truck, and got pretty damn burned out. My route was in constant need of reconstruction, I chose to navigate new places every other day, and inflation was a b*tch. I ended up cutting my road trip short and came home exhausted, broke, and a little defeated. I got to see so many magical places and connect with so many incredible people, but I had bitten off a bit more than I could chew. The purpose of the trip had been to discover potential new homes, and I was excited about a lot of different places, but I needed some grounding comfort and stability. I moved home again, and this move felt more permanent. It felt like failure.

Once I established a solid routine, I allowed myself to get into the rhythm of things without overthinking too much. I started my freelance writing business, waitressed, and taught kids how to ski. I skied as much as I could in my free time and the snow was incredible. I reconnected with a man I had been seeing over the summer and I was so excited to pursue a new relationship and commit to a companion. I was exhausted though—my jobs required a ton of physical and social energy, and I didn’t have much bandwidth to connect with friends or make new ones. My financial situation felt suffocating and I was nervous to make plans for after the winter. The year-long anniversary of quitting my professional job and getting blindsightedly dumped by my live-in partner were looming.

Aaaaand, here we are.

It’s been a year.

It’s late February and I have no idea what I want or where I want to be once the winter season wraps up. I’ve had a bunch of falling outs with friends. I’m experiencing yet another breakup when I felt that relationship was just getting started. My parents ask me weekly when I’m going to start using my potential and escape from the basement. My jobs are not super fulfilling and are extremely draining. My depression kicked in hard. Yet another gross litany of complaints…

I’m just frustrated. In the past year, I discovered what it felt like to truly love and accept myself and believe in my wisdom and power as a goddess. I found love and magic in so many places. I swept up all my shattered pieces and built a woman of light and grace. For the last few months, it feels like that being I curated is crumbling. I wanted my exploration to lead me to discovery. I was excited about a partner but now have to process a new heartbreak and start all over again. I feel stagnant, I feel bland, I feel defeated. I know I’m not making the impact I want to make right now. I’m not sure if winter is just not my season and the universe asks me during this period to sit in the darkness and face it all head-on, but it’s been hard.

In a weird way, it makes it harder knowing that I have a lot to be grateful for. I get to spend time with my parents and live rent-free. I get to ski amazing terrain with badass friends. I’m making a lot of money. I’m seeing talented musicians perform every week. I meet new, exciting people practically every day. My co-workers and managers support me. I know how bravely the community here holds me. I am so lucky to have support available to me and to have a stable baseline. I was able to travel the world and the country this spring, not have to work for several months, and was able to reset by leaning on my family and friends. I feel guilty for not waking up and living my life with gratitude given how much support and freedom I have. I’m working on emphasizing the silver linings, but sometimes they can be difficult for me to find.

I hope that in the next year, I exude gratitude. I hope I continue to explore. I hope to feel fulfilled in my job. I hope to be secure and rooted in my goddess self. I hope to embody the knowledge that I am complete and worthy with or without a partner. I hope to show up for my friends consistently. I hope to commit to community. I hope to continue to intimately connect with the outdoors almost every day. I hope to maintain financial stability and trust my decision-making in my spending. I hope to redefine my relationships with my parents. I hope I am kind to myself in understanding I have high expectations, and not all of them can be met. I hope that the lights and the darks of this next year bring wisdom and strength. I hope I can trust the process.

I hope that a year from now, this anniversary no longer dominates.

My goddess self is growing new seeds right now. We’ll see what blooms once they sprout from the darkness.