New Year for Me

I take in a cold breath to steady myself as the crowd around me quietly chants.

"10...9...8...7"

"8 months, 7 days" I whisper under my breath. My private count this last year.

"6... 5... 4...3..."

"251 days altogether" The metal of my necklace feels like ice.

"2... 1! Happy New Year!" The 20 or so with me on this cold rock cheer.

"252...." I finally breathe out.

8 months, 8 days, since Mom passed. Day 1 of learning to live for Me. I look up at the stars. These past few months, I haven't been doing well. My apartment is littered with papers and clothes. I've been forgetting the basics, to wash my hair, brush my teeth. The only thing I've kept up with is making sure my Cat is fed.

Taking care of others seems to be the only thing that gave me self-worth. I'm not sure where exactly that idea started, I just wanted to help out. At 12, I lived with my Grandma just in case she had a fall, I helped her through her dementia diagnosis. At 16, I redid my Father's house to be more accessible when he lost his sight. I read to him his favorite book as he slipped into a coma, at 17. Since I was 21, I was my Mom's nurse. She was a 2-time cancer survivor and started struggling with kidney failure.

Did choosing to care for her stunt my ability to start college, keep a relationship, and advance in my career in these past 4 years? Absolutely…I wouldn't have changed it for the world. I struggled, but it was for her. She never asked me to, I was willing to do it anyway. She taught me so much about love and patience. Strength in fighting, and in knowing when to stop.

How do I get up every day if it's not to talk to her? To take her blood pressure? To make breakfast so we can start medications? I'm not sure, but I did it today.

The others on the rock chat excitedly. Most are in groups of 2, some in 3s. I am by myself. This was the first step to something I started for Me. I loved hiking when I was younger. You could never find Me indoors as a kid. That love got pushed away for a bit; it had become hard to get away long enough to enjoy the outdoors. Hiking again after so many years made Me cry a little. Part of it is because I am much more out of shape than I thought, and partly because I had forgotten how much I missed this.

The guides let us gaze at the world from on top of Encanto Rock for a few minutes. Night hikes like this are very rarely allowed. It's a moment to savor for them, too. I've always wanted to sneak up here at night but was too scared of being banned. This seemed like a perfect opportunity.

The wind blows again, much too cold for us Southerners.

"Let's start our way down, everyone get in your groups..." We head off in groups of 2's, 3's, I am by myself.

The way down is much easier. The other groups talk about the constellations, resolutions, and what tomorrow will be like. They all seem in good spirits, even the Rangers talk about their own. I stay quiet. I realize I hadn't made many plans past getting to this point. Instead, I briefly wonder about why Mom's death hit Me so hard. I've buried my grandparents, my father, two uncles… Maybe it was because she was all the family I had left as an only child. Who can I turn to now? The sound of our shoes hitting asphalt, no longer leaves, snaps Me out of the dark.

The Rangers see us off, some to the campgrounds right off the trail, and the rest of us to our cars to head home for the night. I don't have camping gear so I didn't make reservations to stay after. I think I'll have to do that next time.

Next time yes... when will I go get tents and sleeping bags? I suppose I can get it next paycheck.

I sit in my car, letting the frost melt. 

Okay Me... we need to think of a few goals.... anything?

My mind is rudely silent for a while.

Tomorrow, I can clean the closet.

That's a start, yes.

But what if I get stuck again?

My mind briefly flashes to calling my best friend in a panic attack. I had found some childhood photos of Mom and I just didn't know where to put my emotions. She drove 45 minutes just to hold Me long after I had calmed down. My throat swells a bit.

Tomorrow is Tuesday. She's off Tuesdays. I'll call her... and I'll ask for help to clean it out.

I sigh and put my head on the steering wheel. The thought of calling her so far out for something so small seems ridiculous. But she loves me, and I know she'll help. I steel myself and decide to text her right then just to make sure I don't chicken out. Only a few moments pass before she texts me back.

"I'd love to, I'll bring food, Mc D's?"

I wipe a tear from my eye. When did I start crying?

I text her back.

"Perfect, thanks."

Okay so... day 2 is covered. But what about when I wake up late later today, the true first start?

My window is almost defrosted, I start looking for a Playlist to listen to as I drive home. I wipe my eyes and find something upbeat and happy to keep awake.

I talk to Me again.

When I wake up.... when I wake up, I'll make myself a small breakfast. Maybe... pancakes and fruit? I'll do the dishes and then I'll… -no.

I stop myself. If breakfast, dishes, and feeding my cat are all that I accomplish, that will be enough. I finally back out and start my way home.

A part of Me feels like that isn't trying hard enough. Another part of Me understands I need to take it slow. I have so much more I can do now, and it makes Me heavy with guilt. No one ever talks about how guilty you feel for enjoying the time they used to occupy. It will take a lot of work to shed that weight. Understanding it's a natural part of grief is different from actually progressing through it. There is no need to rush achievements before I am ready to enjoy them.

I kiss my necklace with her ashes inside. "I'm not ready to let you go yet, but I'll make you proud"

I have to remind myself. It's a new year. I have plenty of time to reach my goals. I will learn to live for Me.