I am an eye-roll worthy fan of life’s built-in fresh starts like Mondays, new years and even new decades! I get all sentimental thinking about what has been and get ready to become a new, better version of myself in what will be. I usually box it all up in my brain, tie a bow on it and bring only the important parts with me. But this time, saying goodbye to this decade feels wrong. And I’m just not going to do it.
I think it’s natural at the turn of a decade to think about where you were 10 years ago. I was a young 20-something just out of college still pretty much living like I was in college, except instead of going to class I went to work every day. I thought I had a lot of cares in the world, but I truly had very little to worry about other than myself. At the tail-end of the last decade, tragedy struck and my boyfriend (now husband)’s mom passed away unexpectedly. We spent the first part of the 2010’s burying that grief deep beneath the joy and hustle of an engagement, wedding planning, wedding and soon after, moving and having kids!
Along the way through the decade I lost both of my maternal grandparents, we moved across the country three times and had three absolutely perfect baby girls. I think it’s safe to say it was exhausting…full of life’s greatest joys and deepest sorrows.
I think that’s why I’m not ready to thank the 2010s and move on. Instead I think I’ll bring the chaos, the grief, the immense love, the joy and the sorrow with me. I’m going to continue on. There’s no groundbreaking new me coming your way anytime soon even though the (big) part of me that prefers things tidy would like to box up the 2010s, thank them and Marie Kondo them to their rightful location.
As we get older, have babies and life gets more complicated, it stops happening in such simplistic increments as a week, year or even decade. Love at the beginning of this decade looked a lot like shiny diamonds and dinner dates. Today, it looks a lot like cleaning something…anything. Grief stirs up when life settles down. Joy happens sometimes within the same second as frustration. It’s all a big, beautiful blur that I think I’ll continue to embrace as we turn very little else than the page on the calendar this year.
Much love to all the mamas embracing their big, beautiful, blurry lives. We’ll see clearly again one of these decades (with our readers on, of course).
Happy New Year!