2011: The Year in Review

In full disclosure, I've been dreading this post. Completely dreading it.

The one thing I promised myself when I started blogging (in 2004) was that I wouldn't pretend. From the start, I promised to be nothing but myself in my blog. It would be easy for me to write about sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows. It would be easy to post recipes, share poems and inspirational quotes, and make jokes. In fact, I'd probably have more followers if I did that.

But, that's not me.

I don't cook, I'm not girly, and I don't have interesting housekeeping or fashion tips to share. Try as I might, I'm not sunshine, butterflies, and rainbows. Far from it, in fact.

Usually, I put a pretty good front up for people. Those who know me best, however, know that I'm unbelievably emotional and dynamic. Throughout the course of my life, this has been both my greatest blessing and my darkest curse.

I'm passionate, romantic, creative, and overflowing with life. I'm also obsessive, fatalistic, dramatic, and cynical. I overthink things, I have extremely high (often unrealistic) expectations, and unrelenting pessimism. This, as I'm sure you can imagine, is a horrible combination.

This lengthy explanation of my personality has finally led me to the original point of this post:

2011 has been the worst year of my life...and I'm not even sure why.

Some pretty amazing things happened this year. I wore my cheesehead with pride as the Green Bay Packers won the Super Bowl. I celebrated Green Beer Day in Oxford with some of my favorite people. We celebrated Jenn's birthday in style with a penthouse downtown. I started Man Meat Monday. I spent a few days in New York City. I stalked the Penguins at practice and met goalie Marc-Andre Fleury. I watched the strongest person I know graduate from Marine boot camp on Parris Island.

I watched some close friends get married and even stood beside one of my dearest friends on her big day. I spent a few rejuvenating days with family in Wisconsin Dells to celebrate my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary. I tubed down the James River in Charlottesville with my family for the 4th of July. I bowled my first (and probably only) turkey. My mind was blown by Dave Matthews Band, Ray LaMontagne, Kid Cudi, and G. Love at the DMB Caravan in Chicago. Harry Potter and Entourage came to bittersweet, yet satisfying ends.

I spent more time with my brother and Jenn broke her foot in Charlottesville at the Wiz Khalifa and Big Sean concert. The NFL lockout was lifted. A Man Meat honoree responded to my infinite creepiness. I met Rick Nash at Columbus Blue Jackets' Fest. I relaxed by the pool and in front of the Bellagio fountains with my mom in Vegas. I spent some priceless time with my brother in San Diego. I watched a live taping of Jeopardy.

I hung out at Brick Street with the Columbus Blue Jackets. I was reminded of my childhood when I camped at Cowan Lake. I dressed up as Waldo and went to Oxford for Halloween. I bought my first pair of jeans. I sang along with G. Love and Phish. I was introduced to The Walking Dead. The Cincinnati Bengals impressed me with a strong season during what should have been a "rebuilding" year.

My wildest dreams came true in Pittsburgh when Jenn took me to meet Evgeni Malkin, Sidney Crosby, Jordan Staal, and company. Jenn and I traveled to Raleigh to watch my Penguins beat the Hurricanes. Regis Philbin hit on my mom. My brother came home for his birthday and Christmas.

As you can see, I have no real reason to complain. I often say I'm the luckiest girl in the world because, well, I am. So, why do I feel this way? Even worse, I get mad at myself for feeling so depressed when I have it so good...and the cycle continues.

This was the worst year of my life because I made it the worst year of my life. I lost my brother to the Marine Corps and my dad to alcoholism. Instead of sucking it up and getting a less-than-dream job, I didn't. I stayed home every single day, looking for jobs that simply didn't exist. I stayed up all night, woke up too late, and spent the majority of my time alone.

I had successful knee surgery, but it trapped me at home. I felt friendships slip away and, instead of making the effort to maintain them, I became bitter at their lack of effort. I felt alone, jealous, and second-rate when everyone I knew had something better to do. Instead of finding my own life, I wallowed in self-pity and became jealous of everyone else's. I cried because I couldn't get my dream job and I still lived at home. I cried because I couldn't find a boyfriend. I cried because everyone else seemed to have their shit together while I, the girl voted 'Most Likely to Succeed' in high school, had no clue.

I still have no clue. I feel like Kristen Wiig's character in Bridesmaids, except without the hot, Irish cop encouraging me to continue baking. This year hasn't worked out how I'd hoped, but even more disappointing is the way I've dealt with it. My entire life I've been a hard worker and I've always done well. For the first time in my life, I am looking back at the last year and cannot find a single reason to be proud of myself.

This isn't easy to admit.

So, here comes a new year. Like I mentioned in my last post, I'm not usually one for resolutions. I would, however, love a reason to start fresh. So, my resolution is to get moving. Get over the things I can't change and start working on the things I can. Bad things happen to everyone. What makes the difference is how you deal with them.

I may not have a clue what I'm doing, but what's important is that I start doing it.