In the past, I hated New Year's Eves. I found them depressing. It was the end of the holiday season, which meant dead trees on the curbside and dark streets that were just lit up with twinkle lights a few days prior. It meant finality on another year of great memories. It was a reminder of how fast time flies and how I'm older than I feel.
This year, however, I couldn't be happier to toast at midnight.
I don't want the holiday season to end, but I can't wait to close the door on the very worst and most painful year of my life. A year in which I was so mentally whacked that I packed up my family and emptied out my house to move out of the country with a man who had just betrayed me. A year in which I lived with strangers for two months while we were without a home. A year in which I lost so much weight that you could see every vertebrae in my back. A year in which I was dying on the inside but yet accomplished things that most people would consider to be great feats.
Truthfully, I'm relieved to be alive, in my home, with my kids tucked in their beds safe and happy on this eve of 2014. I'm relieved that I didn't become anorexic or alcoholic - both of which could have been a reality if I had let it. I'm relieved I got through the worst of this journey without hurting myself, my family, or another person's family. I'm relieved that I didn't let revenge get the best of me and rob me of my integrity. I'm still me, bruised and battered - but I'm whole. It's nothing short of a miracle.
I believe that 2014 will be a pivotal year for me. It will have its ugliness, I'm sure - but I'm not going to settle for anything less than fabulous for myself or my kids. 2014, I hope you kick 2013's ass!