Unravelling: Releasing The Year In Order to Expand

Susannah Conway created a workbook called “Unravel Your Year”, meant to be filled out, scribbled in, and played with as a reflection for the new year in January. For me, calendar years don’t mirror the end of one thing and the beginning of another – my changes and reflections always pop up in different months. My seasons of transformation have always revolved around May and June. As I sit in my warm dorm room for the last night of my sophomore year of college, I want to work through some of these prompts in that workbook. So here we go. 

 What did you embrace this year?

 I embraced the weight of lifting newness off of the ground and into the air. All of my projects, especially the ones that were rooted in research and self-reflection, were brave embraces of possibility and courage. My schoolwork has always been myself, put on paper. I embraced feeling smart – truly smart, owning my talent, and honoring my intelligence honestly and proudly. I have a community that sees me in all of my possibility, as a researcher, teacher, young woman, and change-maker. I embraced feeling respected for my achievements.

What did you let go of? 

I let go of choosing safety in chaos. I am still coming to terms with the fact that I am often comforted by the whirlwind of chaos and turbulent relationships – more often than not, it is me who goes looking for a fight, not the person who I am fighting with. That was a hard realization this year. I am working on letting go of the need for mayhem, choosing to let peace and safety take the reins – which is terrifying. A relationship that is calm and peaceful is not something I have known before. The relationship I’ve built with Joey is secure and safe – I don’t need to throw a tantrum to be loved properly. Once again, working on that one. I let go of calling people who don’t call me. I let go of drama.

What changed for you this year? 

I had to learn the delicate art of holding the devastatingly heavy weight of grief with another, rather than for them. It was a year of sitting in a sadness that wasn’t entirely mine without letting it consume me completely. I think this year was the most adult I’ve ever had to be. The universe tossed me into an ocean of vulnerability without teaching me how to swim, over and over again – so I had to learn. Every month brought something new. Unexpected death, terrifying relapse, overwhelming fatigue, crippling anxiety over travel, incomprehensible depressive periods, towering responsibility, hours of commitments to people, places, and projects – this list isn’t meant to draw pity; rather, to show the reality of what my world looked like this year. It was a year where many parts of me died and were rebirthed. A lot changed. How I handle things changed. Too much change to count. It transformed me, and it transformed the people around me. 

What did you discover about yourself this year? 

I like being alone more than I thought. I can take care of myself better than I imagined I could. A small network of friends you entrust your heart to is more than enough to keep me safe and happy. I need to listen to my body, and rest without feeling guilty for doing so. Poor leadership makes it difficult for me to perform my best. Intimacy is shown in many ways, and not just with a significant other – lying on the floor listening to sad music with your best friend but saying nothing is intimate. So are head rubbies and crying together. No matter how you show it, intimacy is sacred. I need to work on my laundry process. I need to appreciate my dad more.  I don’t want to live alone, even though I just mentioned that I like being alone more than I thought. Speaking of, it’s okay to change my mind sometimes. Family betrayal is really hard to heal from. Heartbreak is an essential piece of my story, and I need to own it. Some friendships can never be repaired, but most can. It just might take ten years. Wait it out. 

 Describe this year in three words. 

Heavy-hearted, courageous, warm. 

List three unhelpful beliefs about yourself you’re ready to release. 

1. In order to be loved, I need to be perfectly happy all the time. 

2. I shouldn’t need my parents help if I’m truly an adult.   

3. Sleep is what I need to sacrifice in order to accommodate the rest of my life.   

This year, I will nourish myself with:

Resting, calling people I love, grilling steaks with my dad, taking off my shoes and walking in the grass, and letting my curly hair do it’s crazy, wild thing without judgment. 

This year, I will open my heart to:

The ocean. Letting the water be where I find solace. My brother’s next steps towards college. Traveling Sydney with Joey. Following my heart, not a plan. Healing myself before I work on healing someone else. Listening without intending to speak. Cooking for myself. Being okay with missing people who don’t necessarily deserve to be missed.

What did you learn about your own resilence this year? 

I learned that my ability to recover is my superpower. I know what I need to heal, and I learned that people will help me when I ask for it. Resilience is a practice. Isolation will never breed resilience. Give generously to people’s journeys towards wholeness and you will be given boundless belonging in return. Loving people is enough to lead a good life. The universe will give you what you need. My soul is a love letter, and I deserve to be read like one.

Call the people you love. Save their voicemails. Cry generously. Tease kindly. Hug tightly.

All my love,

Olly