2014 || What I've loved, what I've lost, + what I've learned

The end of a year is always a funny time. We use it as a means to measure success or lack, almost as if it's a literal pinpoint on the maps of our lives - a place from which to take off, a standard from which to grow, a thing from which to be released into some other thing that we expect to always hold more.

The new year.

The other thing that is supposed to sharpen our resolve, refine us into people so much better than the ones we were a mere 24 hours before. The elusive place that keeps all our dreams and plans safe for us until we arrive, sometimes bruised, sometimes beaten, almost always not quite ready, and not quite sure how we got there. This is the magic of New Year's Eve and New Year's Day, and this particular year, I'm ready and willing and glad that the waiting is over.

I entered 2014 as a girlfriend, an au pair, hardly able to center pictures posted on this space and writing with much less diligence. I made promises to myself to read more, to explore more, and the be more open to the world. This New Year's Eve, I'm a wife, currently unemployed due to the status of my visa but looking ahead to career opportunities for which, for the first time in my short but full life, I'm excited. I'm well on my way to residing permanently in Australia, and living in an apartment that has both my husband's and my name on its lease. This blog has grown into a small piece of my heart, unpopular in the grand scheme of the Internet, but special nonetheless. I read at least a dozen new books this year, and though I barely travelled, I found that my glass always seemed to be overflowing.

I count myself successful, but not because of these few, insignificant accolades. I count myself successful because this year gave me valuable, irreplaceable lessons that will not stay behind. I learned to find beauty in the world by seeing beauty in myself, and I learned to see beauty in myself without being told that it's there. I learned that dazzling words aren't always better than simple ones. I learned that things I used to see as weaknesses in my life are, in fact, great strengths. I learned that thinking you know things is different than really knowing things. I learned that I know more than I think and less than I ought to. I learned that the content of my character, the facets of my person, the worth of my identity are nowhere to be found on social media. I learned that I'm passionate and disciplined and ready. And I learned that the things that I've loved and the things that I've lost are all wrapped up in the things that I've learned.

Here's to 2014, the year that saw me refined far more than easy resolutions would have, the year that ushered me in with love and is ushering me out with nothing less, the year that was both everything I wanted and not quite what I expected, the year that was easy and impossible, the year that I saw God like never before. The year that I am ready to leave.

2015, we're ready for you. Ready, and willing, and not waiting.

What did you learn this year?

Finding the perfect fit

This week I enjoyed some much needed dolce far niete, the sweetness of doing nothing. Carefree, easy. I slept past 7:00 and allowed myself to spend my mornings cozy, in bed with coffee and a new book. I made waffles for lunch with my gentleman and we watched movies and read some more, side by side. I explored familiar parts of my city with my friends and found new treasures in places I least expected. I cried heavily over how exhausted I found myself and then ate handfuls of peanut m&ms to make up for the sadness.

I was glad for the company and I was glad for the solitude.

And in the mix of it all, over more waffles and bacon and fruit, I found myself recognizing a youthfulness in myself that seemed almost unfamiliar. Because, you see, this tender gentleman is bringing out the best in me in the best of ways. We ride in the ute listening to bands that I haven't heard in three years, at least, and I still know every lyric. And I am reminded of frisbee after band practice, of swinging at the park after my first college classes, of midnight trips to waffle house and moving out of my parents' house for the first time, of summer and fall and their respective sounds. We cook dinner and eat ice cream and I am reminded of the first time I cooked dinner. We read together and I remember every word I have ever read. We spend time apart and I am reminded of every person I have ever missed. I am reminded of all the things I've left behind.

He teaches me that bringing out the best in someone means realizing that the best parts of you are not always necessarily caught up in who you are right now. The best in you hides in realizations you had at 17 and decisions you made at 19 and adventures you had at 21. The best of you rests not only in who you have become and where you are going, but the deepest, most soulful places you've come from. Instead of always moving forward, bringing out the best in someone allows the sweetest of backward glances, not to compare or wonder or wallow, but to recognize that even though some of the best is yet to come, some of it has already been.

What a wonderful discovery.

PB&J Picnic before the NYE fireworks over the Harbour Bridge. I was reminded of every new year celebrated thus far, traditions built and buried, and why this new year holds promises far surpassing any I have ever imagined. And I have a great imagination.