What was the best moment that could serve as proof that everything is going to be alright? And how will you incorporate that discovery into the year ahead?

In 2023, it was when I figured out what Chris needed. In 2022, it was it was the moment that all my hopes for the year started happening. In 2021, it was all the small moments that validates that I’ll be fine even if it was a tiered rejection letter. In 2020, it was when a product leader called attention to the quality of my work. In 2019, it was when I left my job and when Chris comforted me that we are ok. In 2018, it was realizing my own qualities. In 2017, it was giving advice in hopes of inspiring others. In 2016, it was the moment that when immersed in the election aftermath that anything could change. In 2015, it was the moment when I realized that I could finish Ice Cream Travel Guide. In 2014, it was when I wrote a well-crafted piece (that I read to a live audience 11 months later). In 2013, it was when light shone in the face of despair. In 2012, it was when I stood up for myself. In 2011, it was a moment of clarity, sincere belief and friendship. In 2010, it was an action of commitment.

It’s interesting that last year that I figured out that what helped Chris feel much more grounded was the outdoors, especially when there was no cellular reception. So we did a lot of that. More national parks, more state parks, more regional parks. We did hiking. And there was even some moments, more than I would have liked, where he went camping and hiking without me.

But that wasn’t enough for the year. Bad things happened in a way that was worse than the previous years. Maybe the previous years didn’t have that tender line of mortality. Or even more so, if it did, it didn’t really change my life so fundamentally. But this time, it did even though the deathlike experiences were expected. Family history. Everyone dies.

I was devastated as anybody would be after a diagnosis. But who knows, my resilience skills kicked in and I was fine for a week. Then I went to a support group and for some reason, seeing people in treatment devastated me and I worried and worried and spiraled and spiraled. Then I talked to a therapist, then I was okay. Then maybe a week or two later, I talked to a genetic counselor about my options which caused me to spiral for a whole hour so much that I got sick. Or at least my body didn’t feel good for a day. But then the resilience skills kicked in again.

What made it okay the entire time was that I was surrounded by friends and family. Maybe more than anything my greatest fear is not to be forgotten. So when I felt the love, even though I know had completely manufactured it in some ways (I mean, doing an email blast with some dark messages can only invite a certain kind of response) and it helped. Maybe it meant that my books will be finished (and published!). Maybe it meant that people will remember me. Maybe I could be satisfied with all the things that I have done in my life. Maybe I could be just fine.

I read something today in a reddit forum—you did the best you could do with the information you had at the time. I really did. You could say that I had all the knowledge of how to live well so that I could reduce my risk of anything. You could say that I made a choice in my relationship, my career, my lifestyle. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered at all if I had made a different choice. A certain kind of predestination. It’s unfair I guess. But at least, there’s nothing I could have done. And maybe to me, that’s a sense of feeling okay with it. I am blameless.