I don’t know what hopes I had for 2024. I remember choosing some words for it. Words that I hoped they were going to define it. But in the meantime, I forgot all three of them. This year I felt as if I was a ballon, just letting myself be carried where the wind had blown, only to find myself stuck in a tree, somewhere in the middle of a deserted nowhere.
2024 was the year that kept giving me not opportunities, but internal struggles.
I lost my paternal grandma mid-January. And even it it’s been almost a year, I have not grieved her yet. She was not the most loving person when it came to me, at least. She always made it clear that she did not particularly like me, not to say the least, and that being the case since when I was very young. I tried my best to understand her circumstances, to acknowledge that this was the best she could be to me, and deep down, I think as I grew up, I lowered my expectations.
But once she died, it made me think of the meaning of legacy.
Of how sad it is for people to gather at the dinner table, and instead of commemorating you with nice stories they have shared with you, to only have memories of physical or verbal abuse, of toxic dynamics. And it made me very sad to imagine that someone whose blood I shared left such a painful legacy behind – from her son and daughter, daughter-in-law to her own niece.
At the same time, her passing gave me the acute feeling of panic and reminder that sooner or later, everybody leaves. No matter how good or bad they were to you, how kind or unkind. Sooner or later, they will no longer be part of your life. Or you will not be part of theirs. And I’m not talking only about death, but also about people falling apart, or just people who let themselves carried on by their lives so they have less time or mental space to welcome you in.
2024 was also the year I looked as someone dear fell into a deep depression. And no matter how hard I tried to help, it felt like I was treading water. You’d imagine that just because you’ve been there, you’d be the best person to offer someone guidance when they are finding themselves at the bottom of a deep, dark, pit. Well, you are wrong. You can know all you want about struggling with dark thoughts, and yet feel like you’re witnessing the downfall without being able to interfere. And sometimes love is simply not enough. Sometimes addiction is more soothing than love, and with all the therapy, without the work, you will still get to feel like you are not enough. Like you will never be enough. And that your love is so useless that it cannot save the person you care so much about.
2024 was the year I grieved almost losing that person. Waking up on a Sunday afternoon to learn that they tried to end it all the night before. I grieve like I only did once. I cried and felt that my world was going to fall to pieces that day. That no matter how much I try, I cannot stop death from happening. It was a harrowing feeling, a haunting one. One that made my own personal demons whisper in the ear: so why do you keep trying? Wouldn’t it just be better to just let go of it all? Empty yourself from all feelings, and you will never hurt like this ever again.
2024 was the year I tried something new, but then I got scared and stoped pursuing that path. I let my brain get in the way of actually doing things, and saw myself at the end of a long year in frustration and shame of turning into some kind of big-mouthed loser who can only talk of things, but do zero actions.
2024 was also the year I realized that it is becoming more and more difficult to get out of comfort zones, for fear of losing the few people that I feel comfortable to be fully myself around. Even if that meant stagnation, no development at all in some areas of my life.
2024 was the year I held onto grudges for people who hurt me, until I realized that having those arguments in my mind, over and over again, mean not having space to bring something else there. It was very difficult to forgive. It was very hard to let go. And it happened when I least expected it: at a yoga festival, on my worn-out purple mat.
2024 was yet another year I spend mostly in my own company. Sometimes resenting myself for all the mental things that keep me from making any changes. It is as my therapist once said: I am on the dock, looking at the water, longing to be out there in the middle of the sea, but I am too afraid to untie the boat.
2024 was the year I stood inside my boat, unable to untie it and just let the currents take me out at sea.
I spent a lot of time at the cinema, but one movie that I felt the most was Perfect Days. It was the movie that made me feel seen. I am just like the main character: just going on with my life, day after day, navigating through it all by myself, with music, books and sunny days to keep me company. For some people, this kind of life seems like some sort of fiction. For others, a little broken, a little scared, a bit more invisible, insignificant, that is the reality of their day-to-day existence. Nothing else exists outside of those days, which come and go, and come and go, with their only constancy being their own, solitary presence.
Despite all these inner struggles, 2024 was also the year I did some things.
I started 2024 by going to a puppy yoga class, sharing some wholesome moments with a few cute shelter dogs.
I continued by becoming a certified mat Pilates teacher.
Then took my Stretching instructor certification.
I went to three body and mind festivals, where I tried new things, such as: animal flow, acro yoga, pilates fusion, the Sanctum experience, Kirtan yoga, to name a few.
I signed up to become a Reformer instructor.
I realized that sometimes it’s best to take a step back and see the moves from the perspective of a beginner. So, I started to use yoga blocks and feel my postures improve.
The longest relationship I had all year was with my yoga mat, and I think it’s still the only place that can make the voices in my head pause for a little bit.
I went on my longest solo trip so far, exploring Tenerife on my own for 15 days.
I danced, and cried, and sang for two nights in a row at Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour, after 13 long months of wait. It was like living through all my experiences from high-school till now all over again, through the songs I used to listen to at various points in my life.
I saw Ed Sheeran twice this summer. And I cried and thought of how much my brother would have loved his music.
I finally gave up of my longstanding rule of not attending a gig if I don’t know the artist’s music, and had a blast hearing Jacob Lee and The Villagers live.
I learned that it’s hard to replicate the feeling you get the first time you hear an artist live in concert. It was a challenging and kind of expensive lesson to have, and yet it happened twice this year. Once with Coldplay, and then again with Thirty Seconds to Mars.
I also realized that you can love and artist and not enjoy their live performance at all. Not because it’s bad, but because your expectations were ginormous. It might sting a little bit, but it should not cancel the entire relationship you had with that band over the years. It also happened twice, and in both cases I could have sworn that this could never happen. And yet it did, both with Paramore and Nothing But Thieves.
I only read (and listened to) 23 books this year. The lowest number in 7 years, but I realize now that the books I read all deal with some of the feelings I had over the year: frustration, alienation, despair, fear, loneliness, fear of failure, reflection over the passing of time, what it means to be a woman:
Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death, and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity – Katherine Boo, Babel – R.F. Kuang, The Age of Innocence – Edith Wharton, Dune Messiah – Frank Herbers, Remarkably Bright Creatures – Shelby Van Pelt, Turtles All The Way Down – John Green, When Women Were Dragons – Kelly Barnhill, Free Food for Millionaires – Min Jin Lee, Forbidden Love – Norma Khouri (would not recommend, it turned out to be a hoax), Loosely Based of a Made-Up Story – James Blunt, Crying in H Mart – Michelle Zauner, Belgravia – Julian Fellowes, Klara and The Sun – Kazuo Ishiguro, The Life Impossible – Matt Haig, Yellowface – R.F.Kuang, Prophet Song – Paul Lunch, Small Things Like These – Claire Keegan, I Who Have Never Known Men – Jacqueline Harpman, Florwers for Algernon – Daniel Keyes, North and South – Elizabeth Gaskell, The Answer is No – Fredrik Backman, The City and Its Uncertain Walls – Murakami, James – Percival Everett.
I don’t feel 2024 was my year. I felt stuck as never before, even when I pushed myself to do things I was afraid of. I was not always present in those moments, as they say. I felt like I was “still at the restaurant”, to quote Taylor, while everyone else keeps going on with their lives.
I don’t know how 2025 will be.
I don’t even know what to expect of it.
In a way, I feel I am afraid to project any expectations into it.
The ending of the year found me with a need of just doing nothing: no travelling, no going out, just nothing. Or, to use more fancy, Instagram words, to slow down and reflect.
The beginning of 2024 felt like it was going to be a wonderful one. It held a lot of promises, and I entered it with the people I loved. The same people I then watch as they fell apart. So it’s difficult for me to use grand words and project wonderful things into happening for the next 12 months.
So I’m just gonna take one day at the time, and try to do my best to be more present in my life. Maybe I will be a little braver to confront those fears I had all year. Maybe I will be able to let go of things that no longer serve me, even if it means letting some people behind as well.
I will just end this post with words from one of my favorite songs of the year:
When darkness rolls on you, push on through.
That’s what I did all year.
And that’s what I’m gonna continue to do in 2025.
And maybe this is just enough to shift things.
Or maybe not.
Who knows?
Let’s just take days as they go, and let us fill them with wonder.
Happy new year,
Alta
Alta's World 