A love letter to community

I’m sitting in a quiet house reflecting on the year that was 2024 and thinking about whether or not I have anything coherent to say. I didn’t write an EOY blog last year and truthfully, I haven’t written anything in a long time. The last journal entry I wrote was almost a year ago on the dot - January 1, 2024. This was probably the hardest year yet and I’m not sure I’ve processed it all, let alone felt ready to write it down. But what I do know about this year is that it has taught me the true definition of community. I’ve learned that love and pain can coexist. That the reason we feel so much heartache is a result of the love we’ve nurtured over time. That living fully doesn’t mean you miss them any less. That actually, living exactly how we want is the only thing that matters because we have no idea when it might be our last moment together. 

It’s really sick how traumatic events put so many things into perspective when we should have the clarity to see them on their own. But death is the ultimate reminder of the precious time we have here and the people we surround ourselves with. And my god, our community has shown up for us in ways that you could only imagine to receive love. I think when you’re processing grief or pain or confusion or trauma, there isn’t much room for anything else. It’s hard to express gratitude in the moment and it’s not always easy to ask for things. I’m angry at so much happening in this world but I’m just as grateful, too. 

I’m grateful for slow mornings. For unannounced visits. For a supportive work environment. For a neighbor who watches Moose and writes down details of his seizures in case we need to show it to the vet. For Christmas cards from best friends that include their kids’ ages on them. For the patient and wonderful man I married this year.  I’m grateful Mackenzie decided to move back to LA this year and that the three of us had each other to lean on during some of the hardest news ever received. And especially, for best friends turned family who remind me that love is actually all around in the small things. Even through grief, we found love. It’s always at the center of our lives and that is one thing that will always be real. So to my support system who grew wings for me this year, there are simply no words beyond thank you and I love you with everything. 

And as I look to 2025, the only option is to be as intentional as possible about what enters my orbit. To me, that means continuing to water the relationships that make me feel whole. I’m not interested in anything that doesn’t serve my mental health or the well being of those I love. If it’s not rooted in the liberation of ALL people, it is not rooted in something I need to make space for. There will be less stressing about work and things that don’t really matter in the end of all this. There will be dinner plans made and flights booked. A new little hobby I’ve been putting off? Sign me up for the class. I want to see my friends and family happier than ever. It’s Free Palestine today, tomorrow, and forever. There is so much pain in the world right now so really, I just hope we all continue to take care of each other. Sending love always.