2023, you sucked.
2023, you were supposed to be the year I found myself again and gained my strength back but you literally did the exact opposite. You stripped me back even further than I could have ever imagined possible. On the dark days, I couldn’t remember that I was/am exactly where I needed to be. Now that I have had time to reflect over the last year, I can now acknowledge that all this happened for me and not to me. Accepting that this has happened doesn’t mean I have to like it or be happy about it. My feelings are valid. My experience is valid. The only thing I can do is control how I react and move forward. The only person I can control is me.
Despite it being a year I never want to repeat, I see the lessons, I see the growth, I see the healing, I see the why. Nothing good ever comes without enduring uncomfortableness. And the growth, the lessons, and healing didn’t only happen with me, it happened for our little family of three. We were pushed into our own uncomfortableness, pushed to step up in new ways, and were forced to see each other perspectives and realities. I was forced to take a step back, truly do nothing, and not let my over-functioning self take over.
From January to April, all I could do was get through each, and every day. I didn’t dare think or plan too far into the future. All I could handle was the moment I was in. And there were some beautiful moments sprinkled between all the grief and sadness. I was privileged enough to take time off work and escape normal life. I traveled to Vietnam and Europe. It felt like I was living in this bubble of just existing and that was exactly where I needed to be. I was able to completely disconnect from my new reality while away but each time I came home it felt like starting the grief journey all over again. I was reminded of my new reality that I would never see, hug, or talk to my dad again. And it’s a reality that I don’t know if I can ever fully accept. There is so much left I could have done with my dad. As much as I wish my dad was with us in Vietnam, I am glad I was able to see the exact building and street where my dad grew up.
My dad’s childhood home.
Last day at my dad’s apartment before our tenant moves in.
Europe Trip with the Fisher Family
The second quarter, May to August I dove right into work while facing the worst panic attacks I have ever had and was severely struggling with getting out of bed. I had experienced panic attacks in the past but I was always able to breathe my way through them. The panic attacks I was getting were paralyzing, I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t help but just cry, all I wanted to do was run away. I wanted to run away from all the responsibility. Basic life felt hard and adding anything else on top of it felt crushing. After a few weeks, I figured out how to work my way through the panic attacks. Every morning after dropping off Kazu I would spend 10-15 minutes on my yoga mat before starting work. I was able to find my strength and did the best I could which to my perfectionist self wasn’t my ultimate best but it was all I had to give. I had the pressure of pulling off not only one event but two that were one month apart. I knew I could do it but I had to dig deep for the strength and the energy. I had to push aside all the grief, sadness, and anxiety. I eventually pushed myself so hard that ultimately my body finally said no more. I had planned on taking time off in the Fall to truly take care of myself. I was committed to taking care of myself fully something I have never really done, all I had to do was get to the end of the summer. I already knew how badly I needed to stop and take care of myself but my body gave out exactly 1 week before my last event of the year, which coincidentally fell on my dad’s first heavenly birthday. I knew deep down that was a sign from my dad and a bigger sign from the universe. I was mad, I was so mad because I felt like I didn’t need a sign this big, I already knew. I didn’t need the lesson the universe was teaching me, It was already in my conscious. I had already spoken it out loud. I soon realized this lesson was greater than me. It wasn’t just for me.
The last 4 months of 2023, were a living hell. I didn’t think my life could get any worse and it did. I lost all my independence (which I thrived off of) while being in debilitating pain with no relief. I had herniated by L5/S1 and was experiencing nerve pain down my right leg. I couldn’t stand, sit, or walk for more than a few minutes, and I even feared going to the bathroom. I would spend hours of my day crying and screaming into my pillow because of the pain. I could only lie on my stomach on a hard floor for weeks. I ended up being bedridden for two and a half months, only getting up for minutes at a time. This time was dark, I had too much time to think, and I was in so much physical pain. By mid-November I finally started to feel better, the pain got better and I was able to start doing my rehab exercises, and return to very basic daily functions. And when things started to look better it all got worse again because of a cough. A few weeks of slight relief was followed with excruciating pain again but I refused to let it stop me from living life. I pushed through as much as I could. Weeks into January 2024, I am finally feeling like I am back on the road to recovery. I am still in daily pain but at least I can grit my teeth through it. My entire life, I pushed through every challenge and every painful situation. I pushed and pushed because that’s the only thing I knew how to do. I never learned to honour my body, and truly listen to my body or even know how I am feeling. I can’t even imagine the number of times I said “I’m fine” when I wasn’t and sometimes it was consciously and for a good portion of my life it was subconsciously.
When I couldn’t do anything without needing to lie down.
Doing my rehab exercises
My Positive Potatoes
Sprinkled between the loss, grief, relationship struggles, a herniated disc, self-healing, parenting, and a potential autoimmune disease diagnosis (a story for another day) there were still some fun and happy moments. It wasn’t all dark even though our bodies and minds want to just fixate on the bad. When it was dark, it was dark and when that lifted I did see some light.
My biggest lesson of 2023 was that I learned that two things are true; happiness and grief can co-exist. That any polar opposite feelings can co-exist. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. I always thought you could only be happy, or be sad. But that’s simply not true. You can experience joy but still feel immense sadness. You can feel grateful and extremely bitter for the cards you have been dealt. You can feel like you hit rock bottom but still feel/hold onto some hope. You can live one reality and someone else can live another even through the same experience. The other lesson I learned this year is that everyone needs validation, empathy, and connection. Not always the easiest to do as we weren’t taught as children. We were taught almost the exact opposite; avoidance, disconnection, to suck it up, and to push away any hard big feelings.
We are 4 weeks into 2024, and I already know this year isn’t going to be easy. I already know that there are obstacles I am going to have to overcome and big decisions I need to make. Regardless of what I already know, I need to believe what I believed at the end of 2022. That it’s the year that is going to bring me closer to who I authentically am and be the road to recovery and healing. Not only physically, but emotionally, mentally.
I started 2023 feeling extremely hopeful even though I was engulfed by grief. I had never been so clear on my intentions and purpose. I knew what I wanted 2023 to be. The optimist in me is trying to see each hardship for what it truly is, an opportunity to grow, to change, to move closer to where I am meant to be.
For 2024, I am going to continue to focus on self-healing, digging even deeper into my wounds so I can heal, grow, and live a more authentic and conscious life.
I guess I should also acknowledge that we survived the first year without my dad. We thought, talked, and missed you every day. We celebrated you.
Painted rocks for my Dad’s 1 year death anniversary.
My dad’s memorial bench.
Lighting a candle for my dad in Vietnam.