This last one was a year of intense self-reflection and healing. I endured both excitement and pain brought on by the speedy transition of the past few years, and by my commitment to seeing and integrating parts of myself that I had turned away from for so long.
This explains why, in the past, I’ve played the parental figure in most of my relationships, or why I enjoy shooting the shit with the elderly patrons that frequent my neighborhood café.
We’ve all messed up. We’ve all failed. We may not all have the same stories, but we all have backpacks. This journey has helped me to be thankful for my backpack. To be thankful for the tears and the hardships and the challenges.