2016-2026
Thank you, 2016, for teaching me that our lowest is often the end of chapters, not the beginning.
For the longest time I thought of 2016 as the shittiest year (excuse my language, grandma).
2016 I turned 21 and moved into an apartment I could not truly afford with an abusive ex-boyfriend.
I was promoted to a position that paid me a mere $1.75 more than I was making as a lower-level teller only it involved the transfer to a town hellbent on bullying me for being a newcomer.
As if being bullied at work wasn’t enough, I was regularly belittled by my boyfriend at the time only I didn’t realize that what he was doing to me counted as abuse.
My mom was also officially diagnosed with MS.
So, yea, 2016 was not great and I remember sobbing when my grandparents sent me a check to help us cover our electric bill. Sitting in a laundromat I found myself boo-hooing about myself thinking about how I could barely afford to wash our clothes let alone keep the lights on in my house. It was tough but it was only tough because I didn’t have the right support. I didn’t have a partner that pulled their weight, that encouraged me, that lifted me up instead of putting me down.
I often sat at tables I didn’t belong and 2016 was the realization that if I am sitting at a table and I know what I bring to that table, then it’s perfectly OK for me to leave the table.
2026
Ironically, I’m at a laundromat right now.
Not because I don’t own a washer or because I can barely afford my utilities bills, quite the opposite.
I’m here because I simply don’t want to exhaust our washer with our heavy blankets and the ever-mounting dog hair. This is a privilege I once dreamed of.
In 2016 I dreamed of college but never thought I would make it. In 2026, I have two college degrees, a house, a partner who supports my insanity (OK I’ll be kind to myself – ambition), and the hard-fought for currency I call hindsight.
How beautiful it is to be able to look back at who I was and thank her. Thank her for not giving up when she felt her lowest. When she cried as she drove to work with a busted-out window and broken blinker. The nights she cried herself to sleep because she was convinced life would always be this miserable.
2026 feels so kind in comparison and we’ve barely started. I hope to step forward into this year with appreciation and grace.
Thank you, 2016, for teaching me that our lowest is often the end of chapters, not the beginning.