I am supposed to start a good year, but here I am staring at the ceiling, lying on my bed, severely broken and damaged by this year. I am just sobbing my heartaches out as the new year approaches, no enthusiasm or whatsoever for the coming new year. There’s not much I could envision right now for 2017. I am turning 24 and could hardly believe that this is how my life will turn out.
The cycle of looking back and then getting depressed is exhausting. After so many times of looking back, of trying not to look back but still ending into doing it, I finally learned something important from this. I learned, after so many failed attempts, to look with wisdom, with purpose.
So now, I try to look back to actively search for answers, for guidance, for clarity, for hope.
Maybe it’s not the conventional way of moving on, but I’m finding nuggets of gold from unearthing the past. I pull myself, even though it hurts, into the mess of my past and wade through, then beyond the feeling of pain and loss. I am trying my best to will myself to keep on looking for the woman—the amazing woman—I know so well before. I want my present self to relearn everything she can from the Jem-before-brokenness; and listen carefully, attentively to the Jem-after-brokenness.