Appearance vs. Reality: Closing Down 2022
My hope is you’re reading this when you have some space and time for reflection. As I write this, I’m sipping morning coffee (it’s a thing I do when I write these newsletters), enjoying a nice fire, sitting in my pajamas, and bracing myself for a very chilly and snowy night ahead.
I feel grateful for folks like you who are reading this newsletter, who are supporting my small business in its relaunching phase, and who have allowed me to partner with you in some way—whether through the moments you sit reading these words, workshops we’ve completed together, projects we’re embarking upon, or whatever else keeps us in community. Thank you.
Appearance vs. Reality
As I prepare to close the books on a roller coaster of a year, I feel grateful, depleted, contemplative. Here’s the contemplative thing: In my 11th grade high school English class, my final project was to take a theme from the novels I read and represent that theme in some symbolic way. I chose the theme of appearance versus reality—what we show the world vs. what’s going on within. I created two graphics, one that displayed each novel’s protagonist as they present themselves to the world; the other as I imagined their realities. The punchline: we never actually know what’s going on for someone. People’s appearances often mask much deeper complexities. That project has been kicking around in my brain lately as I reflect on 2022.
I had a catch-up call recently with a dear friend; we hadn’t spoken in almost 10 months, and as we were chatting, my friend said, “It looks like you’ve had a wonderful year.” She was drawing this conclusion based on my social media posts—photos of celebration, travel, and silliness. I also listened to Brené Brown recently, as she recounted her sabbatical from social media and the kind of year she had. It sounded kind of hellish. I could relate. My year has been wonderful; it also has been kind of hellish, too complicated to encapsulate in a photograph or brief post.
The Appearance and Reality of Flourishing
My word for 2022 was flourish. While it appears I did in fact flourish this year, the deeper reality is my year was a whole lot else. When I listened to Brené Brown recount her experiences this past year, I thought, Thank you for being so real. I don’t know who she is in a daily way, and I prefer to admire her from a distance. At the same time, I appreciate when those I admire, those who I think have their shit together, actually don’t have their shit together. I admire it when people acknowledge and own the cracks in their foundation, tell the stories of their scars, and integrate this newfound wisdom as they move forward. I’m ready to acknowledge the cracks in my foundation—as well as the beautiful moments—so I can move forward. Here’s what my year of flourishing looked like in reality:
I said goodbye to my dog, my ride-or-die difficult little beast Buster, who taught me to love big and patiently. My grief still hurts.
I lost my dad, suddenly and unexpectedly, and I’m reeling still from the weirdness of it all. Our relationship was complicated.
I co-authored/published a book that’s making its way into the world; I’m proud of this accomplishment, and it stands out as a professional highlight.
I witnessed my mom suffering and struggling with issues beyond my grasp, and I’m still navigating our relationship (and the mystery of it all) as a result.
I went back to therapy to root out some deep ancestral patterns that have caused me long-term suffering; historical trauma is real, and I live the legacy of the Holocaust in ways I never fully understood.
I chose to leave a job and community I loved for a return to solo work; I have been spreading my creative wings and building new relationships and friendships in unimaginable ways.
I let my hair go gray; I’m learning to accept and love the inevitability of my aging self.
During amazing summer travel, I finally got COVID and realized how much my health-related vigilance had worn me down once I relented to the inevitability of this virus.
My marriage became stronger through the pandemic, through shared challenges and celebrations; I didn’t know love could grow so big.
What emerges for you as you reflect on the appearance and reality of your year? What stories do you want to tell, and what is your newfound wisdom? What are you ready to say goodbye to?
Year-End Reflection Questions
Each year I do some semblance of reflection so I can look back on what happened, narrow down my biggest lessons, and look ahead to what’s next. To spare you from a longer newsletter, I won’t share all my lessons and next steps. Instead, I’ll share the questions I used to reflect on this past year. Perhaps some may be helpful for you:
Identify 8-10 big moments from the year. Narrow that list to 3-5 big moments and reflect on what was most important about these moments and why.
Identify 8-10 of the most important lessons from the year. Narrow that list to 3-5 of those lessons and why they matter to you.
Identify 3-5 things (or people) you want to let go of and why it’s important to let go of them.
Identify what’s next for you in the next 12 months. This list can be limitless. Then, write a letter to yourself answering the following prompt: What does the future version of you want you to know right now?
Goodbye, 2022
This year I celebrated solstice more intentionally than I normally do. Well, that’s not totally true. Here’s what I did: I made a tasty beverage, and at the exact moment when the sun went down, I toasted to the shortest day, honored the longest evening—the beginning of winter—and the grief and joy I experienced this year. I’m ready to say goodbye to this complicated year. I’m looking forward to re-reading my letter from future me as I begin 2023.
However you celebrate this time of year—in the balance between dusks and dawns, rituals and routines—may you have some time for rest, celebration, reflection, and peace.
