I was in my parents' living room seeing in the new year the same way I had been for the last five years. We dress up and put glitter on our eyes, drink cocktails and leave lipstick marks on the glasses. We listen to our favourite songs. It's sad that I wince as I write this – who told me to be ashamed of how I feel? This wasn't what I had envisioned for my life. I thought I'd be married by now, at least with someone, or perhaps come close to it. Watching my friends, one by one, meet the love of their lives, get married, have babies, while I stayed the same, still here, again. And it felt like the years were slipping by, faster than the year before and the year before that and time was running out; everyone around me was changing and growing while I was just stuck. It's always fun while the champagne flows, but when the morning glows I am empty.
We watched the fireworks on the telly and as the countdown started I tried focusing on the anticipated feeling of a new year coming, but 2020 arrived and it was just like watching the numbers on my alarm clock go down as I press snooze again, and again, waiting for the inevitable. So many moments pass by without a thought, invisible, but the ones I do remember are like framed artwork in my head, and a snapshot of that night has stayed with me for the whole of this year. We shared Happy New Years and a family friend squeezed me as we clinked champagne glasses. 'This is going to be your year,' she said.
I'm sitting on my bed and it's December again. In the year the world learned to slow down my mind seemed to speed up, and to-do lists and life goals and hopes and fears grew and grew but had nowhere to go. I don't want to miss a thing but I sleep soundly every night, and every morning the air is crisper and I am so stuck inside my own head, I've forgotten how to be still.
It's a slower pace of life here, so why can't I be still? Be still and know that I am God. How do you still your heart and mind and be with God when the demand to do is so relentless? As a Christian in 2020, being open-minded, liberal and (dare I say it) feminist doesn't always match up with what the church says. I feel alone most days, torn between pursuing a life that promises excitement and possibility, one in a city, perhaps, where I know I'll have fun and meet people like me, and one that I truly long for – the quiet of Wales, the support of my family, the church to which I belong. Nature and peace and space to run and write. This is my home, but it feels lonely.
This year hasn't been what we expected – and for much of it I have wondered when it would begin to feel like it was mine. I am thankful, though, for I would never have had this time to learn more about God, or learn about how much I need him, even when I wonder if He is there at all. I have to hold onto the part of me that knows that he is, though – what would life be, otherwise? And the promise of this year given to me as the clock struck midnight – I still believe it is my year, despite the derailing of my own plans.
I left my job in March just before the pandemic hit and we went into national lockdown. Looking back I feel like this was probably a mistake – I had no income and very little sense of belonging or purpose, and in many ways I feel I have gone backwards this year, but it's okay to have regrets. I had a plan that got torn to pieces yet somehow I stayed afloat – I started a baking business, and this creative outlet that I've known as my hobby since I was seven turned into something that gave me a reason to get out of bed in the morning. From the outside, an exciting venture, yet for me, fear (mostly of fear itself), the social anxiety caused by months of staying at home, so much time to spend with my thoughts caused panic at having to reply to messages and being the one in charge. It's all rubbish that stops me from seeing what I have achieved and the gift I have is, ultimately, undermined. That is not what God wanted. So this is a note to anyone reading – affirm your friends and loved ones. Tell them how you see them, remind them of how God sees them. The texts I receive from friends that simply say 'I'm praying for you' or 'I miss you' are the ones that help me to feel less alone in what has been the loneliest year of my life.
The perspectives of others are hugely underrated in today's culture, one that tells us we should be wholly independent and thrive in doing the most, to be happy by ourselves. We shouldn't need anything or anyone to help us. But we weren't built to be alone and it's time to stop shaming ourselves for wanting companionship, love, affection, security – or whatever it is your heart desires.
