Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

In 2010, it was a person. In 2011, it was an idea. In 2012, it was a symbol represented by a person. In 2013, I let go fear. In 2014, I let go of humility (or the desire to appear humble). In 2015, I let go of perfection. In 2016, I let go of expectations. In 2017, I let go of things and people I don’t need. In 2018, I let go of constant discovery. In 2019, I let go of expectations. In 2020, I let go of uncomfortable pants. In 2021, I let go of rejection. In 2022, I let go about feeling bad about rejection. 2023, I let go about being upset when others are upset.

Well, what can I say? I am still the same person, the same body, and same mind as I was at the beginning of this year and right now. But next year, I will be completely different. So what am I actually letting go?

Although I have prepared for the last few years, by the end of this year, I had to let go of the fact that I could not sensibly know what would happen in the next week, the next month, the next year. In the ideal world, everything would be the same. In the worst case scenario, it wouldn’t. And it would be fine. I had to let go of control. And when I didn’t have control, especially faced with uncertainty, I would spiral in the worst way possible. There’s death and health that makes this all the more plausible. Or the hope for the future.

In August, I thought that would be planning for a trip in September. Another hiking trip. I thought about all the things and was slowly gathering everything that we would need. And then suddenly it wasn’t. Then a few months later, I thought that we would be going to LA regularly to take care of his mom’s estate and then I discovered a serious illness that disrupted everything. Everything that I thought would happen couldn’t happen or maybe it could, but I wouldn’t know. It was devastating, but also freeing. Because sometimes to my surprise, I was available and sometimes I was thankfully unavailable. Even if I had control and certainty, the outcome was sometimes even generally the same.

Is this what not planning looks like?

Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing and can you eliminate it?

In 2010, I said everything. In 2015, I said fear. In 2016, I said that it’s sitting down and doing it.
In 2017, I said that it was work. In 2018, I said that it was lack of support. In 2019, it really was the lack of accountability. In 2020, I said that it was about losing my creative space to WFH, but it really was about setting time for it. In 2021, I said that it was work. In 2022, I said that it was the way I used my free time. In 2023, I said that it was frugality.

This year, in the before, it might have simply been distraction. The everyday life thing. But then the after, it was purely the kind of distraction that gets super deep into your bones, the kind that seeps into your mind and grows and grows and you can’t put words to it clearly because you’re unable to sit down because there are life events literally taking up your time and you need to attend to them emotionally and write down the thoughts but if you do, it just comes out like mush, but you don’t ever like to delete and edit things when they’re raw so you have all of this mush sitting in the computer and you’re just feeling really awkward about it so you don’t but then suddenly after talking to therapy and maybe using the resilience skills that you have surprisingly built all your life you’re feeling better and your mind is filled up with ideas so you read and read and then the words come out and you worry that you can’t get the thoughts out soon enough and you’re already at the end of the year writing this post and you think you think maybe I’ll write more but just not now.

One Word. Encapsulate the year in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2024 for you?

From years past: 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011 and 2010

So last year, I had hoped this year would be about movement. And maybe it could have been, especially with all the national parks and hikes that I did. The whole thing about really actually getting active in the physical sense.

But the last few months have suggested something else completely different.

So how can I choose any word except this: Grief

Because of different ways that life has created loss. Has caused a rupture in people, body, and a sense of the world. Quite naturally, everyone wants to look for the positive, but when things are holding you down, how can you? I am often jealous of the young person that I was of how I could have the space and time to dream big. But at this point, it’s like days are numbered.

And yet, of course, I can completely reframe this into something else. And it’s easy for me to do because I have been trained, skilled, practiced a lot of reframing. But the loss is still there. Maybe, I could say that next year will be change. I mean, technically, this isn’t the first time I had a significant life change that created such a rupture for myself. But this one, I can only hope that others, life, and forces beyond my control can fix the rupture.

How did you travel in 2024? How and/or where would you like to travel next year?

In 2023, I stayed within the state due to limited to PTO and then made it to Utah for national parks! In 2022, I made up for all the lack of traveling by going to the Netherlands, Ohio, Portland in less than 2 months plus a stop in Arizona. In 2021, the second year of the pandemic, we stayed locally although did jet to Hawaii. In 2020, in the first year of the pandemic, I stayed local and only went to a few overnight destinations within a few hours of a drive—one before the pandemic (so it doesn’t count) and down to Central California. In 2019, I made a big trip to Japan and many domestic trips to Phoenix, Portland, and New York. In 2018, I traveled very domestically, mostly local for retreats in Ukiah, Scotts Valley, and Big Sur. Then San Diego for a work thing. And a trip to Squaw Valley. And a crazy long adventure through Chicago and New York. In 2017, I traveled to Minnesota for work, LA twice for “fun”, Las Vegas for a not-so-good fun, and Thailand/Myanmar! Also somehow forgot to mention Cincinnati for MidwestUX! And did I forgot to mention Phoenix? In 2016, I traveled to Finland/Sweden for my first big speaking gig, Portland for a “bachelorette” party, road trip to LA for my sister’s wedding, and Minnesota for work. In 2015, I went to Brazil for a conference, multiple work trips, and a midwest trip. In 2014, I went on multiple weekend trips, increased business trips, and found a destination for ice cream and writing. In 2013, I finished off the bulk of the travel for the Ice Cream Travel Guide. In 2012, I started the journey of a life and went to what I thought was unfathomable (in my life) — six domestic destinations and eight international destinations — for professional and personal reasons. In 2011, I went on one international trip, one domestic…and one super local. In 2010, I went on one international trip and multiple domestic trips.

In 2024, due to the national park pass and helping Chris with mental health and some unexpected things, we went to:

• Point Reyes for a three day workshop and parks!
• Tahoe for a ski trip
• Arizona to visit my sister and Jakobe! Then also to Tucson to Saguaro National Park, Chiricahua National Monument, Bisbee, and a few nearby attractions
• Colorado for Litfest since I got into an advanced weeklong writing workshop at Lighthouse and Rocky Mountain National Park
• LA several times to take care of Chris’ mom’s estate :(
• Washington State to visit friends, Olympic National Park, and Mt. Rainier

Next year? I got the devastating news of a health diagnosis plus the estate in LA requires a lot of work. So I am not sure what travel things will be happening. I had planned to be in LA for a writing conference, Washington DC for a work conference, and possibly Portugal for a writing conference. But everything is now on pause. At the very least, I know there will be at least one trip to LA. And maybe I can make it to Washington DC? But I am not even sure!

I recounted the most impactful entertainment pieces for me in 2014. Then I did it again for 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, and 2023

Movies I Saw

This year, maybe I lost interest? Like was it worth it? So it was somewhat limited, but still good

• Anatomy of a Fall
• The Zone of Interest
• Challengers
• Deadpool & Wolverine
• The Fall Guy

TV Shows I Watched

• Penguin
• Industry
• American Sports Story: Aaron Hernandez
• True Detective: Night Country
• The Sympathizer

Books I Read

• Rejection
• Real Americans
• Victim
• There’s No Such Thing as an Easy Job
• The Story Game

Ways to Pass the Time

• Being anxious, which means so much…googling and reading through forums
• Wordling
• Planning for the future
• Scrolling through Instagram reels
• Worrying about Chris

Technology

• Back to Bluesky or Threads?
• Because of work, I am intrigued with the ways that people use technology to collaborate and communicate and how they hack together the tools they have to make it work in often inefficient ways
• Substack
• Notion (especially the templates!)
• Letterboxd

In his childhood room the day before the memorial, I found a heart-shaped notepaper that fell. It read, “My dear Chris, Mom miss you & love you. Be a good boy! Love, Mom 9/24/1991”

I met her only once for the first and last time. I can go into all the things she said to him after she met me and all the decisions that were made. But there’s little point to re-litigating what has happened and what could have been.

After I got over the initial traumatic experience during the first few weeks, I slowly started to sense all the love in the house. She created this place for him. For better or worse, she created tight boundaries to ensure as she stated in letters and the will, “a place for his good education.” You could also say that her criticism and high expectations were because she had such high hopes. It’s not disappointment, it’s just hope as stated just like in Joy Luck Club.

At the memorial service, I tried to make myself minimal, because it wasn’t my place. I didn’t know her. But she never knew how long we were together. She never knew that we were married. She didn’t even know what our hopes and dreams were. It could have been a fraught relationship just like many in laws are. I could have been more of a disappointment. I could have endured so many other things. But she is his mother. The one who made him who he is. And that’s the most that I could have wanted.

Like every extremely online person, I come across a social media post, especially from someone I don’t know and it made me think. Is it really my depleting estrogen that is leading me expressing more strict boundaries? Where I have no anxiety in expressing my boundaries. It’s their problem if they don’t like it.

I’ll respect you, but I don’t have to like it.

When I started college, I decided to completely reinvent myself. More than anything, I wanted friends so I decided to make myself more compatible for friendships. Or at least relatable. But along with this, I found myself walking the fine line of my personal principles. And of course, that spells trouble for me since I believed in being who I am while not having others infringe on my beliefs. It caused a lot of strife when I was younger leading to bitter breakups—romantic partners, friendships, or a disruption even with strangers.

With therapy/counseling, I learned that it was that I was allowing people to cross my boundaries. Although aside from victim-blaming, I didn’t build up a skill of expressing my boundaries. Until it was too late.

I am more expressive about what I want and need. Especially setting expectations. Maybe too transparently so—sometimes backfiring in my face. But didn’t I win? I stood up for myself. At least every day, I tell myself—it’s never worth it, it’s never worth it.

If they leave, it’s okay because I said what I said. It’s true. And it may be worse if I let things happen.

Previous years: 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, forgotten year in 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, a forgotten year of 2007, 2006, 2005, 2004, 2003, 2002

What does it mean that I only update my blog for these annual rituals? But I suppose that I can’t help it. I really can’t move away from the things that I set for myself.

I also come to an age where I wonder if it’s okay to celebrate? But why not? Nobody says that I can’t. It’s my day and sometimes it seems like it matters more when we’re younger. But when we’re older, the many times we have done our birthdays, it becomes a blur. But I believe that it’s best to wish and hope.

1. That Chris finds his way out of the messiness
2. Fruit salad everyday!
3. Security and comfort in friendships
4. Finding ways to sleep well in uncomfortable environments (aka too warm or too noisy)
5. That I find someone in the industry to believe in my novel aka an agent or editor
6. Publish a short story or essay (though tbh I haven’t submitted any!
7. Clothes that make me younger—though irritated that IG has made me feel like I am dressing old
8. A poem that I can actually submit!

What makes a good year? Or a bad year? Is it just perspective? So yes, it certainly is perspective. But I also hav learned that sometimes it’s just exactly it is. You don’t apply judgement to it. I seek movement most of all in the year. But maybe I will discover that I have been moving all the time. During the pandemic, there was a general emphasis to focus on what matters in front of you. But sometimes that led to not doing much.

There was an era where I would schedule something every day. It felt exhausting. But then it meant movement. So move.

There were the years 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022.

So, let’s keep going.

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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 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.

Some may or may not know that Chris has had a horrible year. In the way that information and trust could be used in malicious ways. Maybe I did devote a lot of my energy in making sure that he was okay.

I have found more than ever that my creativity and energy gets paused (or zapped) when I am worried. Especially worried about him. Imagine if I had kids. I think that would be worse?

But I guess the moment came later when I could see him really enjoying our hikes in Utah. Although there were definitely several times that I complained that he was running up ahead and not waiting for me, it felt like we were in the flow as we climbed Angels Landing. When we watched the GoPro footage later, he reflected that he was worried that I was going to give up and that I worried that I was holding him back. In truth, I was fighting against a desire to go faster because I certainly didn’t want to fall all the way down the cliffs. I wanted to be sure about my footing which meant that I was going slowly. And I knew that I could make it. It was just going to be slow.

I remember that he was willing to wait. I could tell that, although it may come off like mansplaining, that he enjoyed telling me where to place my hands and feet, what rocks could appear easiest, how to swing. In an earlier essay, I alluded to how he described running up ahead, ““I am the herald. I am Jack Bauer. I am just making sure it’s safe for you.”

He was. Clearing the way. Making sure that I was okay. He wasn’t impatient. It wasn’t that I was grateful for his patience. It was embarassing in a way that I was so cautious. But more that it gave up him purpose. For a few days, he could feel needed. Seeing the red rocks lit by a rising or setting sun (when we actually made it), finding footholds, and just being in nature (because mobile coverage was so poor!)

I liked touching the rocks, he said later.

Like a spider? I asked. Like being one with the rocks.

Yes, to all of that.