See you next decade, space cowboy!

[акираакира]

It's 5:41am, and for the first time in weeks I'm staring at the ceiling perfectly comfortable but unable to sleep – because for the first time in weeks, nothing hurts and it just doesn't feel right.

I figured it's a good enough reason to get up and type out my last entry of the decade.

Honestly, it didn't even hit me that the decade is ending until all the memes hit the fan. I would rather just talk about this year, especially since I have plenty to look back on.

2019 was the year of getting things done, and believe it or not, I fucking delivered:

1. I underwent two surgeries (successfully) and am currently recovering from the second one.
2. I am now a software engineer (well what do you know) with a job I love.
3. I did two cosplays, both ones that I had really wanted to do, and they actually turned out really cool.
4. I chopped off my hair. Again. It felt great. 100% worth it.
5. I made many friends in completely unexpected places.
6. At least one of my parents firmly believes I'm a psychotic time bomb ready to self destruct any second.

No matter how you look at it, it was a great year.

A bunch of things happened in January–November

In January, I reached out to a person I was barely acquainted with, but one I knew could help me change myself for what I wanted to be. It required effort, research, money, but most of all courage. But I went through with it, because, sick of seeing me hesitate, someone close to me finally said, "Just fucking do it." So I fucking did.

It worked out well. It gave me strength and confidence.

In February, I started to lose my shit. Words cannot described how much I hated my job and people there. I was supposed to stay there until October to save up enough money for a career change, but hating the idea of going to bed just because I didn't want to wake up the following morning was taking its toll on me. Volleyball and evening runs in the cold were keeping me sane, but for how long... I wasn't sure.

In March, I started dressing the way I wanted. It was likely then that I finally started realizing what my sexuality actually looks and feels like.

In April, I snapped. I quit my job, ordered a shit ton of cosplay stuff, borrowed an even bigger shit ton of money, and enrolled in a coding bootcamp. In hindsight, this was the best decision of 2019 and I am scared to think of what my life would look like today had I not done it.

In May, I went on a 50km biking trip. You can get very far on a wobbly city bike if you really want to.

In June, I went to Pride for the first time. It coincided with my birthday, and it was the best birthday gift I could've wished for. Not only did I assemble a perfect party to go with, but Cambridge Volleyball Association was marching, and there was a lot of rainbow, a lot of hugs, a lot of street music, and a lot of sun.

In July, I... developed a crush. On a bootcamp instructor 7 years older than me. You would think I'm too old for that kind of stuff, being married and all. It was an interesting experience, because I thought my heart had long forgotten how to experience something like that, and a slightly terrifying one, because it was entirely unnecessary. It was good to know that I can still feel things I thought I was long numb to. In July, also, my long hair had to go.

August was when I got injured. And subbing for someone else's crappy team, too. For a long time, it took away such an important part of my life. Not only was I unable to play anymore, I was on crutches for weeks, in pain, and incapable of any kind of exercising. If you know me, you know that I use physical activity as a way to keep my mental problems at bay, so having it all taken away from me so suddenly was, for a lack of a better word, depressing. The injury also wasn't a broken bone that would heal on its own if I gave it time. My left leg has undergone some irreversible damage and will really never be the same. But at that time, I didn't know that. All I could do was try harder to recover it at least partially – and cry when I learned the truth. And then wipe my tears and try harder.

In September, I started my new job. Ah, what a blessing it is to work with people you don't hate and, in fact, quite enjoy working with. The work itself is so much better, too. I should've gotten into this industry long, long ago, but then again – my experiences up to this point have made me who I am today.

In October, I... failed Inktober... again. But hey, MCR got back together!

In November, I went to Anime NYC, one of the biggest fests on the East Coast. I had a giant scythe made of EVA foam and PVC pipe which was a huge pain in the ass to drag around. But it was worth it. So many experiences and so many people I ended up connecting with. So much money well (and not so well) spent.


And then in December, just a couple weeks ago, I underwent a 4-hour surgery. I now have 5 scars and a couple of metal screws in my knee. I was in pain for days straight and couldn't walk, not even get up – nothing at all. The painkillers poisoned my system, and sleeping in the cold downstairs living room caused me to catch bronchitis.

I didn't have to commit to the surgery. In fact, by not giving up on my leg, I was able to recover my range of motion to the point where most people couldn't tell something was wrong with me. But I couldn't run or jump anymore, which would essentially exclude me from doing most of the things I enjoy doing.

So I did what I knew had to be done and what I knew was true to who I am. I may not have been mentally prepared for the trials that would follow, but at this point, I can safely say I got through most of them. Months and months of recovery and hard work are ahead of me still, but I'm fairly excited about that rather than feeling crushed or tired.

Today was my first day without crutches (though still with a metal knee brace). After weeks of sleeping in the cold living room, I was able to climb the stairs and curl up in a warm, comfortable bed. And as I'm trying to fall asleep so not used to actually feeling comfortable after a bunch of hardships, I realize that, no matter how it looks to others, to me, this is pretty significant. Not only have I achieved so much, but in the last hours of the decade, I was able to pick myself up and am now closing the year from a higher point (literally and metaphorically) than where I was yesterday. I have the strength to go on.

So to myself, and to whoever feels like they have accomplished something in 2019, I would like to say: Keep it up, buddy. You're doing great.

С наступающим/наступившим.

Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before?
Are you out there on the front lines, or at home keeping score?
Do you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate
Or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?

@темы: мотивация