Why My 2020 Was Way Better Than My 2019
2020 was one of the best years of my life. I know it’s not the common experience. I feel a bit like the recently engaged couple who reins in their joy so as not to overwhelm the perpetually single friend. I don’t want to sing songs to the troubled heart, so if 2020 was a “crap chute” or a “raging dumpster fire of poo” (as I’ve heard it called), and hearing how someone had the exact opposite experience will be difficult for you, stop reading now.
Most of my life felt like bouncing from one crisis to another with just a few months of rest here and there. (This is a common experience for survivors of prolonged trauma.)
I never thought I’d get a whole year without new trauma or the triggering of the old trauma.
I had no idea what it would feel like to actually live in a healing state without having more wounds poured on top of what was trying to get better.
How many times have said to God, “Can I just get a break?”
How many times have I stood on the edge of a rare moment of peace, wondering what catastrophe was on its way towards me, preparing to hurl me off the cliff?
I lived most of my life waiting for the next explosion, the next outburst, the next sabotage of my carefully laid plans. (This is a common experience for survivors of childhood abuse.)
I never stopped living that way after I moved away from my family of origin. I lived in constant expectation of the next bad thing, and most of the time, life delivered.
Then 2020 hit and suddenly I was working from home at a new job that was already proving to be far less toxic and stressful than the job I’d left just two months earlier. I had made the decision not to return to working for churches for a while, after I’d turned down three jobs and realized that, while my desire to pastor and help people had not abated, the institution of church had proven to be a place my gifts—my story—were unwelcome.
People are wonderful. They really are. There’s a good sort of friction that happens in relationships and I think, in general, we should stay as connected to other human lifeforms as possible.
However, to go almost an entire year without any major relational conflict has done wonders for reestablishing my humanoid equilibrium.
I needed this year. Desperately. I needed an excuse not to go to church when I was recovering from a toxic church. I needed a reason to not have to be in company with people on a regular basis and have complete agency over when and how much I interacted with any individuals.
I needed space to breathe, to think, to create.
I needed a consistent schedule. My system needed support, sameness, stability. Though normally I’m the kid who’s always ready for an adventure, I needed a year where adventures only happened on paper, as I scribbled away at stories and essays during the extra time that would have been absorbed by social events.
I needed to grieve.
I feel like it’s been one long year of crashing after finals week. My whole life was a state of high-intensity and overnights in the library, just barely staying awake with the help of caffeine and power naps. Now, finals have ended for the semester and I can sleep all night and eat normal food and not have to think about research papers or exams.
I’m still floating in the post exhaustion state, but I can notice the blue sky again.
Come what may, it was a lovely, healing year. I wish for the sake of my suffering friends that all of this will end very soon.
For my sake, I’ll always be grateful for 2020.
Photo by Drew Coffman on Unsplash