I stumbled on posts from just one year ago, and went down a rabbit hole reading my writing from this same time, last year. It’s just a matter of 12 months. And yet, that set of posts felt like the writing of a whole other, wildly different person.
365 days seems like a lot, but in the larger scheme of things, it’s not very much at all. It’s just one revolution around to sun. And I’ve done 35 of them, so nyyeahh. But still, I couldn’t get over how much I sounded like a dramatically different version of myself. Just so telling of what a ride this past year has been.
365 days is not a lot, when I think of it as just a number, but it begins to feel immense and like a faraway time in the past when I think of just how different everything was then. And how it is now.
At this time last year, I made several references to being on the brink of leaving Bangalore yet again. On the work front, I imagined I would go back to writing full time. I was cruising the high of a task accomplished, finished, fully done because that’s what I thought of my work with self-development — mostly done. I had this notion that I’d embrace the #foreveralone life, given how the friendship department was flailing. I had some vague inkling of needing to live a different life, alone, to facilitate finding myself and had kind of resigned myself to be the one to move somewhere to make that happen. How, where, when — I had no idea.
So much, so much, so, so much has changed since then. And for once, I am not quickly following this up with “and yet so much remains the same” suffix, because when I look at me, my surroundings, my life as it is today, it hits me how much everything has changed.
I stayed put, and have grown to love Bangalore. Somehow, we managed to fulfil that wild desire to live alone. I went from swearing I could never do long distance relationships to managing it quite well, and getting a bonus of many, many trips to a second home in Goa. I moved further away from writing full time. I realised I’d only merely scratched the surface of my journey in finding myself. I pulled the lid off on that and dived in, free-fall-style. Many of my friends from then have left my life in some measure or another, the ones that stayed have deepened. And there are so many more people and closer connections today, somehow. All of this was unthinkable last year.
365 days ago, this was not even a distant possibility, it was not even a considered reality.
I hadn’t pictured myself or my life like this.
I sent one of the posts to S, to share my shock at how somewhat unrecognisable I felt of my own self from not so long ago. But truth be told I also felt a little pleased with myself. To see how far I’ve come, and what is possible even in just a single year.
In the words of that older avatar of myself I sense hope and determination, even in the face of abject uncertainty. An unvarnished real rawness. And I immediately felt a deep fondness for how wide open and hungry for change I was. I’ve been talking about softening up, but yesterday I saw an immense softness in my own words. A soft, open readiness for life, for change. It comes across in a childlike innocence of not knowing how much that openness would actually be met with amazing possibility. A cluelessness about how all I had to do was receive and drink it up as best as I could.
I didn’t know any of this then.
It’s only now that I can look back, and see that uncertainty and confusion, difficulty and bumps in the road are those openings that life brings. Moments to change gears, to do something different in order to land a different outcome, to move and grow. Heck most often, the discomfort of all of that is the inflection point for growth itself.
I didn’t know it then. It’s only now that I can look back and feel a sense of relief, and joy, in realising that yes, it’s just 365 days, but it can do a lot to transform a life.