2014 was a pretty good year. It was a year filled with a sloppy mix of good and bad. Ups and downs, peaks and valleys and any other schlocky term we can come up with to say that it was just another year of life. It was the year I lost one job and got a few new ones just in the nick of time. It was the year I thought I'd hit the big bad menopause but now realize it was something I've dubbed "stressopause". Definition? It's what happens to your cycle when you are simultaneously losing your job, sending your daughter off to college and also negotiating a new and improved child support arrangement with your ex. Apparently my period is smarter than the average bear and knows when to skedaddle for a while. P.S., she came back to stay in October and we picked up right where we left off. Never thought I'd be happy to see her, but I wasn't really ready to embrace that next chapter. Not quite yet.
I made a big decision on the last day of 2014. I decided to stop undervaluing myself. Which means many things. Personally? It means it's time to stop giving myself away to a person who isn't worth it. There was a stupid, cocktail infused last-night with him which involved nosy neighbors, police with flashlights and a stunning, wholly shaming revelation that we really do get what we give in this life. I was with him because it was easy. Absolutely effortless, actually. I gave it the worst of me and that's exactly what I got in return. This ends in 2015. You know any single guys who don't mind dog hair and women with self-esteem issues? This is the year I take off the armor, my friends. Hold me.
The undervaluing extends into other areas of life as well. How about that writing thing? 2014 was a year of huge accomplishments for me. Being published in a real life magazine? HOWDY! Being in Family Circle was supremely trippy. I still can't believe that happened, but there are several copies of the magazine here to remind me that YES, it did happen (need a copy? There's plenty, you know). One of my writing idols, Glennon Doyle Melton, gave me space on her stage and ran one of my essays in July. Being on Momastery was a Thrill with a capital T. She is just as kind as she seems, people. I received two, count 'em, TWO of BlogHer's Voices of the Year awards. One for Those People and one for the blog post that is like bad sushi: it will haunt me forever: 7 Things You Totes Need to Stop Saying if You're Over 30. And there's a book! No, not mine all mine, but a throng of funny, sweet and fierce writers and I are going to be in a real live book that is coming out in May. Check it out on Amazon and then feel free to read the reviews that mention my essay. One is fabulous and the other one shames me for "not putting up" with a philandering husband (bite me, Big Data Paramedic).
2014 was the first time I've been paid for my writing. Like, real US Dollars. I'd like that to happen again in 2015. Which means this year I will stop undervaluing my words. Just like that dumbass relationship, I haven't been treating my writing the way it deserves to be treated. If I want to make this something worthwhile, I need to work on it, work with it and practice it. I need to be devoted to it and let's face it: my blogging efforts are the writer's equivalent of a booty call. I write when I get the urge, usually late at night and I don't give it 100%. Like one of my pretend boyfriends, Dave Grohl, says, "Is someone getting the best of you?" The answer, Dave, is no. Sad thing is, nobody is getting the best of me. And that sucks. Because my best is pretty awesome. This is the year I do more writing, and try to do it at least 3/4 assed.
Which brings us to the title of this, my first blog post of 2015. This blog was born in March, 2010. That year I posted on here 135 times. 2014? 40 times. I skipped the month of October, people. SKIPPED IT! Bottom line is, I miss it. I miss the contact with all of you and with the keyboard and how much better life is when we talk about things. So I'm going to try and write here, every day. You've been warned!
I want to close with something my BFF shared with me. My friend Danielle is the kind of girlfriend I used to dream of having: the confidante, the funny one, the one who always, always has your back. She doesn't judge me even when there is so, so much to judge. She gives me grace, she gives me love and on occasion she gives me food (her chicken and dumplings are to die for). She understands my strange love of Gregg Allman's "I'm No Angel" and Gordon Lightfoot singing "Sundown" and my need to listen to Rush songs, really loud. She has stood by me when others haven't and has never ever stopped trying to get me to see my worth. I love her and I hope I've been at least half the friend to her that she's been to me. Anyhoo. She posted this on my Facebook wall first thing this morning. This, the first day of a new year. I cried, of course, because that's my jam. My one and only real resolution this year? To take the dare my best friend has given me. Here's to 2015 being a magical year.
P.S. Is it just me though, or is "breathe" a typo? Do they really mean "New breathe"? #wordgeekproblems