What I learned in 2023

Another year has passed where I didn’t write very much, but I surely lived more than I was able to put on a page. 2023 began with much promise but turned out to be the hardest albeit the most formative year of my life thus far. I learned lessons I had not wanted to learn and experienced a range of situations I had not predicted but likely needed in the grand scheme of this one miraculous life we are entrusted with.

I learned about the resilience of the human spirit, housed in a teenage boy who lost too much and still found a way to go forward. A boy who navigated trauma, grief, and loss without a roadmap. Who captured my heart and taught me humility, who confounded me, scared me, and saved me all in one fell swoop. I learned that a mother may leave this physical world but never leaves her baby in the ultimate sense. I learned that we will go to the ends of the earth to make sense of a loss we were not ready for, nor should have been ready for. But there are no guarantees, and us mere mortals can only do our best. Sometimes our best falls short but it does not mean anything was in vein.

I learned that love is the strongest force on earth but sometimes more is needed to remediate a situation. Love remains unending though and the circle is unbroken.

I learned about desperation, and fell to the depths of distress but at the bottom I had the opportunity to rise again. There is no growth without adversity, no connection without vulnerability, no salvation without sorrow.

Boundaries! Lack of them, the need for them, and the difficulty in erecting them.

I learned about friendship. Real friendship. Lifeline sort of friendship. And the type of friends that show up in your darkest hour, and don’t look away. I also learned you find heroes in the unlikeliest of places.

I fell on my face, I cried my eyes out, and I pleaded with God. I also laughed, found peace, grew up immensely, and learned the true meaning of sacrifice.

I learned that families look different. They don’t always live under the same roof, but their souls can be tethered. And I was introduced to ambiguous grief, the type of grief that happens when you mourn someone who is not dead, but who is not with you.

I learned that all we have is our truth. People may threaten to take it away from you, or to change it to meet their narrative…but at the base of your soul resting right between your gut and your heart, you know what is true, you know what you’ve seen and you know what you’ve navigated. You have to have faith and conviction that whatever is meant for the highest good will transpire, and an aura of light will protect you from the stones that are cast in your direction. 

I learned that we so often diminish children. We treat them like they should conform and adhere to standards that are unrealistic. To quell their big feelings, to comport themselves a certain way, to not undergo any changes in response to the life events that would rattle any adult to their bones. We need our grace to extend to children and especially children with disabilities.

I learned that miracles happen, but sometimes they are disguised in a hue you had not anticipated. On the matter of hue, I learned that life can take on darker shades but to embrace the storm, because when we try to avoid it, the turbulence finds us and by then we are fatigued from running away. We need all our strength and all our wits for the road we are on.

What I learned in 2021

Another year! Another year we lived in fear. When I was gathering my thoughts this past week to craft my annual reflection I felt resounding anger. Another week of stances shifting, of people we entrusted with our welfare changing their minds, and the common person dealing with the ramifications. Weeks upon weeks of frantic testing lines, shortages, anxiety, and sick friends. Another week of astounding hypocrisy by leadership as they took lavish vacations and the rest of us cowered in our homes. Weeks where we were left riddled with uncertainty and confusion as the goal posts continued to shift, the requirements evolved, and the children, and the vulnerable, and the elderly remained experimental specimens in a Petri dish. Another week of elites calling the shots from the safety of their cozy homes in protected communities while others performed the mental and physical gymnastics of determining how they would feed their families, keep their businesses open, and keep their mental health from deteriorating further. I’m angry at our proclivity to elevate individuals to the status of demigods to shortly after watch them fall from grace as their abuses come to light. I’m angry that they think we will forget.

Last year around this time, I felt societal pressure to never err, or say the wrong thing, and vowed to do whatever was required to be marked good in this war of identities that we are raging in this beloved country. This year I feel angry at my lunacy, and our willingness to be led like sheep by talking heads on the television toting platitudes that lose their meaning after their bearers continue to behave so poorly. Angry that here we are two years later being told there is no solution. Angry at the years of performative activism and grandstanding that has not helped a literal soul. Still angry I never got to say goodbye to my grandpa.

And then I paused as the anger raged. Anger doesn’t sit well in the body; it always hurts. I took a breath to focus on the ember inside that has yet to be stamped out and as I always do , found a way back to gratitude. I fixed my eyes on the beauty that remains. The beauty of a quaint Christmas spent alone at home with my husband and our menagerie of rescue cats. The technology of FaceTime to allow opening gifts in tandem with loved ones. The beauty of the promise of a child to remind a family of the miracle and innocence of new life. Gratitude for the decency of people in my community despite the grim perception being painted by the inept commentators of our time, and relief that the tv has an off switch. Grateful that grief is unexpressed love and that is why it never really runs out because love never dies. Grateful that after the rain, there comes a rainbow.

I learned I would be an aunt! And how to make a mobile for this beautiful blessing due in May. I learned a whole lot about adoption as well as I investigate my own path to motherhood. I also learned it is ok to feel profound joy for someone realizing their most sacred dream, and to still feel a tinge of longing that you might realize yours as well.

I explored so many new projects. I realized the culmination of publishing a cookbook with my sister friend Rossella Rago and was delighted to witness firsthand the photo shoot of said cookbook! What an experience it was. I established new connections in the community, found more reasons to smile with Sorriso Kitchen, and met joyful new spirits at my sanctuary, Ethan & the Bean. I leaned into the arts and was led to new understanding by mentors and friends.

I saw love stories come to an end as it was decided the abuse had gone on long enough, and witnessed other love reborn when it was not thought possible. I learned we are all working through loads of shit. It’s the human condition. Crying continues to be cathartic but so does laughing and dancing around to 80’s music alone in a coffee shop.

I relished the glory of reunions and revisited the sadness of separation. Realized I needed healthier boundaries with media that stifled my peace. I learned how to make jewelry, did lots of yoga, tested so many recipes, painted, and sipped! I hosted art shows, planned a bowling birthday blowout, and celebrated small businesses and talented makers with my stellar team. I shed some relationships while fortifying others, and found new souls to walk this world with. I realized I know next to nothing about alleviating the suffering of someone who is genuinely sad and genuinely afraid, and in the same breath realized that presence is the only support that people often require. You being there is the elixir that heals, not some magical solution they never asked for.

We said goodbye to some of our beloved furry friends and hello to new additions. Animals have been for me a source of such grace and solace always, but especially during volatile times. They teach us how to love unconditionally, to be present, and to express as much goodness as is maximally possible during sometimes only a short while on earth. May we all be better at what comes so naturally to animals. May 2022 too be better, and if it isn’t may courage prevail.

Past reflections:
2020
2019
2018
2017
2016
2015
2014
2013