Life can't ever really defeat a writer who is in love with writing, for life itself is a writer's lover until death - fascinating, cruel, lavish, warm, cold, treacherous, constant.
Edna Ferber, A Kind of Magic, 1963
I am willing to say this now. Compared to 90% of my life thus far, 2011 sucked. Big time.
This isn't going to be a moaning and groaning sort of post, but suffice it to say that I've been thwarted, frustrated, scared, terrified, down, stuck, set adrift, disappointed, lifted to soaring heights only to be dropped at the worst possible moment.
I've been told I'm too overqualified, underqualified, inexperienced, deluded, irresponsible when I was only being different, wrong.
I've been forced to play the waiting game more times than I even want to count.
In 2011, I was also probably the happiest I've been in years. Because I dug deep and really got to know myself. I know now that I have a reserve of strength that I'd thought had been lost three years ago.
Also, I got to write almost every day that I wanted to. And that helped. Because with every day that I wrote, I could take a step back from my life and see where I was and that, suck as it might, life wasn't big enough to squash me.
I could keep going and because of that, I'm much stronger and (theoretically) more patient. And relaxed, because the added perspective showed me some things about myself that helped me to deal with a lot of nonsense that I've been carrying about for years.
So yes. Life was my lover last year, even if he was a pain in the ass. He taught me a lot. And I can't wait to see where he leads me this year.
How is your life treating you? What did you learn last year?