This time last year, I had a feeling that things might be different for me a year from then.
I didn’t know how, but I made sure to make a mental note about how different things were going to be.
At a glance, things don’t seem that different. With the exception of my physical appearance. My youngest calls it a “glow-up.” While I have always strived to keep myself up, some things had just gotten more difficult to maintain.
Early last year, I made some changes.
Small things. Things that I knew would be manageable.
One year later, the difference is obvious, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Birthday pics of me from two years ago – even last year – are wildly different than the ones taken the other day for the celebration of my annual trip around the sun.
As for the rest of my existence? Not much difference can be readily seen.
But things are different.
Maybe an outsider looking in wouldn’t think so, but they are.
And for the first time in forever, I am excited about these things!
I have never been one to “wish my life away,” waiting for something on the horizon to hurry up and get here, but I must admit that I am eager to see what this time next year will bring. I finally have plans. I have dreams again.
This has been the singlemost transformative year I can recall. And honestly, it isn’t that a lot has changed; it’s that a lot has changed back.
For the sake of past relationships, Bret included, I gave up so much. I lost myself trying to mold myself into someone else’s vision.
It only took nearly eight years of widowhood (and another dysfunctional relationship) to figure that out.
I wonder what next year will bring?
I’m excited to find out.
Image via ChatGPT

