Post by Maggie Lockheart on Jan 5, 2021 6:24:26 GMT -5
I don't know who I am anymore...
But I'm not quite sure that it matters.
New Year's Eve has, at times, been a defining moment in my life. As an orphan, I never got to know the holiday season in the same way that I imagine most kids with "real" families do. New Year's Eve has been, and remains, the one celebratory day that stands tallest in my mind. Perhaps that's because of the moments I've shared with the people that helped shape my world and my sense of self. The yearly festival is, of course, nothing more than a long night of gathering that lasts far into the early hours of the next calendar year. Yet for all of the rooftop parties I've been to, every amazing and awe-inspiring view, and all of the drinks I've consumed, it is a point of reflection. I could leave the funny hats and even do without the fireworks if I had to. But, for me, anyway, it's always been that one moment where I look around to the people standing next to me and look down at the floor beneath my feet.
This is where I am. These are the people I'm with. This is where I'm meant to be.
I belong.
I remember a lot of these moments. Some more vividly and vibrant than others. I remember when I was a rookie in the industry, at a roster party for a federation I no longer work for. Almost every single person I shared a room with that night I no longer have contact with. I remember celebrating New Years' at the Paper Street Tattoo Company; raising a glass to the women who all shared my passions for art and the exquisite freedom of personal expression. I remember being surrounded by the employees that I was damn proud to call not just my peers, but my friends.
I can't even hold a tattoo gun anymore.
I reveled in each success, admonished myself time and time again for every small failure. It's the perfectionists' game; we can't help ourselves but play it knowing we were always going to lose. I like to see it as though I've had a lifetime of choices that lead me to this exact spot. Agree, or disagree. 'What I'd change' versus 'what I'd do all over again in a heartbeat'. The one thing I'll never do is accept anything less than full responsibility for where I stand and who is standing beside me. But this time I do wish I could go back... I don't want to soliloquize rationalizations for the 'new year, new me' trope but when you've lost your compass, isn't every direction you'd take a new one?
2020 has been a year of tremendous loss. Not just for me, but everybody. Even the best among us can only boast that they survived, as they reflect and move forward I assume. But here I am trying to gild the past. I'm picking through the pieces of the rubble hoping that I can find something worthwhile to latch on to, and perhaps, build a new future with.
My name is Magdalena Marie Lockheart, and...
But I'm not quite sure that it matters.
New Year's Eve has, at times, been a defining moment in my life. As an orphan, I never got to know the holiday season in the same way that I imagine most kids with "real" families do. New Year's Eve has been, and remains, the one celebratory day that stands tallest in my mind. Perhaps that's because of the moments I've shared with the people that helped shape my world and my sense of self. The yearly festival is, of course, nothing more than a long night of gathering that lasts far into the early hours of the next calendar year. Yet for all of the rooftop parties I've been to, every amazing and awe-inspiring view, and all of the drinks I've consumed, it is a point of reflection. I could leave the funny hats and even do without the fireworks if I had to. But, for me, anyway, it's always been that one moment where I look around to the people standing next to me and look down at the floor beneath my feet.
This is where I am. These are the people I'm with. This is where I'm meant to be.
I belong.
I remember a lot of these moments. Some more vividly and vibrant than others. I remember when I was a rookie in the industry, at a roster party for a federation I no longer work for. Almost every single person I shared a room with that night I no longer have contact with. I remember celebrating New Years' at the Paper Street Tattoo Company; raising a glass to the women who all shared my passions for art and the exquisite freedom of personal expression. I remember being surrounded by the employees that I was damn proud to call not just my peers, but my friends.
I can't even hold a tattoo gun anymore.
I reveled in each success, admonished myself time and time again for every small failure. It's the perfectionists' game; we can't help ourselves but play it knowing we were always going to lose. I like to see it as though I've had a lifetime of choices that lead me to this exact spot. Agree, or disagree. 'What I'd change' versus 'what I'd do all over again in a heartbeat'. The one thing I'll never do is accept anything less than full responsibility for where I stand and who is standing beside me. But this time I do wish I could go back... I don't want to soliloquize rationalizations for the 'new year, new me' trope but when you've lost your compass, isn't every direction you'd take a new one?
2020 has been a year of tremendous loss. Not just for me, but everybody. Even the best among us can only boast that they survived, as they reflect and move forward I assume. But here I am trying to gild the past. I'm picking through the pieces of the rubble hoping that I can find something worthwhile to latch on to, and perhaps, build a new future with.
My name is Magdalena Marie Lockheart, and...
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