The Last Day Fast Approaches

2014.

How can I surmise a full year in five hundred words or less?  Let me try ...

This year presented with a fury of change, etched out of a cold northern winter.  The day I moved home, February 8, was snowy and bitter.  I left the hotel I'd stayed in the night previous and sat in an empty parking lot for hours, wondering if the decision I'd made (or the decision I was making) was the right one.  I talked with Efed, messaged with Ghost, spoke with Anya.  Everyone encouraged and reminded me that it was time to go.

So we packed a U-Haul four times the size of what I'd used to venture north seven years prior, and set out down 71.  I guess that was the true beginning of my year.  Though, for all intents and purposes, I spent the change of the year in my sunny yellow lab alone, tapping out truths on my machine.
Winter quickly gave way to spring.  I fell into a rhythm with Ghost and his boys, pitching in where I could, hitting the gym as much as possible, running fifty to eighty miles a week.  It felt great to push my body that far, but I was missing ... something.
Now I realize I was in mourning.  Mourning the loss of a life I was certain would take me on through the autumn of my life, one that I'd continue to build and craft just like any other project.  I ran so hard and so far that I broke some toes.  And you know what?  I kept running, all the way through the wet spring into summer.

O, summer in Cincinnati.  Exactly like I pictured and nothing like I remembered.  I expected more time with my girls, more evenings sitting on porches and patios, talking the night away.  But we're all so busy these days with obligations and life and whatnot.  So, what ended up happening was a lot of Kentucky nights with Voyin and his crew; it was a new kind of summer, and everything I needed to emerge from my sadness.
Autumn's rush of change found me one evening sitting on my sofa, crying after reading a novel that wasn't sad at all.  Darkness started to extend a creepy hand, and instead of playing into it, I stepped up and back.  Reached out to Willi, Edub, my fam, asked for help.  Threw myself into my work - finishing two manuscripts, launching this blog, a poetry group, realizing that my impact as a human, a writer, a survivor is only pertinent if I take the steps to make my voice heard.

And now, it's winter.  A time of renewal for me, though the weather suggests otherwise.  It's long been a season of contemplation, to reflect on the colder moments in life and find strength in the warm.  This insight, coupled with a supportive group, is helping me to stay strong.  Cold nights mean nothing if there is some semblance of love to be found in these winds.  I believe I've found that.

New Years Day will be eight years since the change of my life.  It is the anniversary of my rape.  This year, instead of cowering at the eight o'clock hour, I am going to walk into the cold sunshine of the morning and head to the gym.