2020 was NOT TRASH. I am so tired of hearing, in spite of the trauma, loss and anxiety-riddled year that 2020 was, the negativity infused in the number 2020 as if we are entitled to more life than we have been given even in a pandemic. What’s more, if we can’t be positive, how can we carry on (signed yours truly, the world’s most intransigent pessimist)?

Now, here is the contradiction: the heartache that has wrapped the world over is nothing to dismiss. My heart aches for the grief caused by the pain and loss by way of Covid and other causes of death. I want to offer a prayer and hug to everyone who is hurting which amounts to a morsel of comfort the strength of pocket-lint when manifested through a screen. Nevertheless, screens are socially-distant and socially-anxious approved.

So, those are the feelings I wanted to start with.
Now here are my sentiments:

We are all on a steady uphill climb at the moment so a “New Year’s Resolution” doesn’t feel authentic to me at all. Let’s set resolutions in July when we aren’t soaked in survival sauce.
Many of us are digging ourselves out of a hole, finding a vaccine or putting our minds to shedding the weight we gained in the pandemic (I say this with all due respect: if you are using your scale as a measure for control and superficiality and not for health purposes, stop weighing yourself. It’s a number that has been conflated with personal value.)

I want to say 20 things about 2020.

1: I learned how to be a teacher on Zoom. I could not have done this without the support of other teachers who listened to me, made suggestions and clanged “I know, right?!” in a timbre that harmonized with mine.
Teachers understand teachers. I didn’t realize that teaching is a seven-layer dip (seven times seven, at least) and I have to lay all seven layers when I explain what it is to be a teacher specifically in public education (layer one) of Arizona (layer two).
Thank you for listening to me, those who are not teachers, because you have inevitably had to listen as I laid the seven-layer foundation before I could even answer any questions about it.

The thing is: every job, every calling, is a seven-layer dip. We all have to find our people to understand us because there simply isn’t time to explain all the layers every time.

2: I learned that mental health challenges are not something you can muscle through. I had learned this before in my 20s, and then I lived in Guatemala where support is often cultivated in multi-generational households, the community of living in a pueblo, eating together and being known. Then I moved to Tucson where I ate my meals alone, usually at my desk or sometimes on my bed (I admit it). Buen provecho and muchas gracias se convirtieron en nada más que nostalgia.
And then in October I fell into a pit of anxiety and isolation and I didn’t think I’d get out of it. I am still wrestling with this one, but I feel a little less alone knowing that we are all alone, together, in our panic. Whatever is giving you reason to panic, that seven layer dip, might look something like mine. Or it might not.

3: Online dating (excuse my French in advance) is no SAM-HAM place for a unicorn. One of my ‘resolutions’ (‘cuz I hate resolutions) is to quit the apps.

4. Aunt Sherri died. She is never, ever coming back.

5. Spotify Parcasts (mine specifically: Cancer Today) is a great way to start the day.

6. Being an Aunt is so fun I can barely stand it. It’s a good thing Harrison James is objectively cute and everyone agrees, so I spend zero effort convincing anyone. There are absolutes, after all.

7. People care. My friends have called, sent notes, picked-up, listened, shared, supported, hugged (from a distance and sometimes not), walked, video-called and cried with me in this year and in all of the other turbulence of life (I’m a Cancer and a 4 on the Enneagram. As Dr. Stormes noted: “You’re a sufferer.” And okay fine, she’s right).

8. Social media and access to technology has made the current generation of youth the most unsocial and anxiety-stricken generation yet (in the USA). We are losing ourselves behind swipes. We have fostered a culture of “little annoyance= big problem.” We are angsty AF. We have SO MUCH material wealth in this nation and not just in one SES. The emphasis on materialism pervades what we value across all SES’s, but especially the Caucasians who tend to live far from family in isolation by choice in the name of comfort and independence.

9. Running has been a life-saver. When I gave up drinking in 2019, I had to find a way to move my body in more productive and helpful ways to pass the time and unwind. I actually like exercise now and I didn’t know how the things I’m most resistant to are often the best for me.

10. I am obsessed with cactus. They are the strangest most incredible plants, resilient, so ugly they’re cute and long-sufferers. You can be spiky in order to survive. Maybe I should embrace my spikiness instead of trying to change it.

11. I actually like the ‘staying-in’ movement because I can’t afford to eat out and be about in a non-pandemic world. Staying in on a teacher salary hasn’t felt like FOMO because I know most everyone else is staying in, too. I will miss this.

12. I need a budget. I will start next year.

13. I don’t need to buy things so I can buy things. I need to buy things to use things. And that helps to not buy things. 🙂

14. I don’t need to keep things to have things. I need to keep things to use things. And that helps get rid of things.

15. Water and sunscreen. Tucson. Desert.

16. HIKING: it’s good exercise with a goal (make it to the top!). Plus my glutes are on fleek which helps getting around.

17. I spent way too much time on my phone in 2020 and it robs me of joy when I don’t get red notification flags on apps. It’s like a drug and I hope I learn to flex impulse control.

18. I am writing my story of being a Unicorn. My other ‘resolution/plan’ is to share it, in its totality, to friends. I will then consider publishing it. But I am writing the book for myself. If I decide to share it, that will be a different conversation with myself.

19. As a white person, I can choose whether or not to mention how race has impacted my life this year. This is the privilege of being in a dominant group. Race impacts my life every year, almost always to my benefit, and I was under the illusion until this year that my whiteness was not a driving factor in my comfort and success. That was a lie.

20. The mid-30s are changing me, or I am changing as a result of being in my mid-30s. My face is changing, my skin is moving, traditions matter because I’ve been around over a third of a century to see their impact, my body doesn’t like me for sitting in the same posture too long, or hunching over my phone (see #17) and my outlook is generally, well, more interlaced with loss. Life has turned terribly bittersweet. Loss is closer to me than in times past, starting with the loss of my skin elasticity, the thickness and pigment of my hair, my frustrations with technology, my reaction every time I hear my students use slang I would NEVER KNOW if I weren’t working with high school (drips, no cap, and bet to name a few), the death and sickness of my friends and family.
I feel more vulnerable than ever before, and stronger than ever before (see #9 and #16).
I feel more of everything.

And that is what leads me to believe that 2021 is going to be more of everything. More death, more life, more sagging, more walking, more births, more change, more loss, more gifts, more learning, more acceptance, more sadness, more happiness (errr, see #7) and more.

More.

And now I am going to count 20 blessings, which may have appeared previously on my list:

1. My health.
2. Harrison James.
3. My family (of which Harrison James is a part): My parents James and Cindy, and my sister Gretch and Brother-In-Law Chris and his family, too.
4. My friends who have only been a phone call away: Regina, Amber Kierra, Cate, Katie B, Claire, John, Eunice, Amanda and Heather who was a friend up-close and from a distance this year). Boy Meets World dates with Abby. My teaching mentor Mr. Roberts who has also been a friend. The teachers I have met at the high school where I work who have also invited me into friendship. Walks with Bri and Deschuttes. Video messages with Michaela.
5. My Sundates with Dr. Stormes.
6. Alaniz and I, and our debrief/survival teaching texts.
7. My roommate Chandler AKA Bullet.
8. Kailee the dog, who I petsit and want to keep forever except money and commitment.
9. My job (may you be a blessing and a challenge, amen).
10. Food.
11. Air.
12. Trips I took this year to: Grand Canyon (x2 with Stacy and Tanya), to the DMV to visit Tanya and Eunice, Mexico (with Amber) and to Georgia for Spring Break and Christmas. Two trips to Yuma, one for a visit and one for survival.
13. The Arizona sunset.
14. My summer nannying job with Zoe. It was so hot and so fun).
15. My apartment, I really love it. Come visit! But not between May and September.
16. My students who are really cool people, even when they’re not.
17. My host family in Guatemala who prays for me and my family.
18. Myself. Natalie, you didn’t give up. You wanted to many times. It takes more bravery to show-up and make mistakes than not to. It takes bravery to come out, it takes bravery to not shave your legs, it takes bravery to change and be the same. It takes bravery to get your wisdom teeth out (something I am also grateful for and thank you for the ride, Ahmed!)
19. All those dates that reminded me that chemistry is a rare element.
20. Smoothies and coffee. Like, really, thank you both.

Here’s to more.