Letter ten of eighteen

Dear 2018,

You had days when the serenity levels were low.

You’re familiar with the serenity prayer right? I grew up with it. It was printed and put up in most homes I visited. We had it printed in the key holder which held the keys to my parent’s room. It’s one of the first few things I learnt how to read.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference.

I’m not familiar with the origins of this prayer but it played a very big role in my upbringing. In recent years, I even used a short version of it as a caption on most of my posts on social media: serenity * courage * wisdom. 

Most of the people who know me personally know how much of a perfectionist I am. That and being obsessed with making plans. I’ve been this way as long as I can remember. My parents have always had to teach me the “life happens” or “leave room for disappointment” side of things. I dreaded those lessons. 

I used to love cross country and athletics back in the day. I was the only girl in the team for a while and I still didn’t mind. There was this particular race when everything just went south. I wasn’t really fit, I ran my worst time and I was amongst the last to finish. After the race, my mother hugged me as I had just won a medal. That was so embarrassing. In hindsight, this was her showing me to accept something that I couldn’t change. Still is, when I think about it. Was she not watching the same race? I guess I’ll fully understand this moment when I have a minion of my own. 

2018, you’ve taught me to make courage one of my favourite acquaintances and she’s come in very handy. She was there before I gave major public speaking speeches before I entered each class and before I had to face any obstacle. On some days, I had to be courageous and get out of bed to face them.

There were days, 2018 when the serenity levels were really low. I couldn’t be still, or calm and I just couldn’t even spell peace. I only saw mountains and I had no idea how I could even climb them. You’ve been a tough year nana! You’ve thrown me to the deep end but, as I said to you earlier, I’m surviving you. It’s years like you which anchor one to God and not be moved. 

There were days too, and many, when this prayer came in handy, don't get me wrong. But today is dedicated to all the days when it didn't. Those shadows are enabling me to enjoy my light. They are part of my image. Omitting them in my reflection to you would be an injustice to the scars.

To the tribe, thank you for helping me climb mountains…