I think the inclination to write usually comes when suffering is at its peak but intuition and clarity are on the cusp of rising to meet it at the same level.

2022 was another unexpectedly hard year for me - it continues to be hard. 

There is fear. There is depression. There is loneliness. (Ooft, the tears have arrived.)

A lot of it has to do with immobility, isolation from leaving school again, being in an emotionally challenging LDR.

I feel like my heart has been squeezed of all its energy - its effort, patience, endurance, love. I feel it just wants a place to rest. To just surrender. To fully exhale without a care in the world. To let go.

A lot of the difficulty this past year has been to do with love - for myself and others, and both in terms of giving and receiving.

I've learned a lot more about myself, and it has definitely taught me to be stronger. I have a quote on my phone - "what is soft is strong". I feel I've really learned the meaning of that for real this season. I've learned to be softer - mainly with myself. And in that way, it has made me stronger.

I've learned that I have a lot of love to give to others. But I sometimes do this without boundaries - I pour out of my cup to the point where it's overflowing for those I'm giving to, but they sometimes don't pour back. So I'm left feeling very empty and lonely and hurt. 

So this year a big thing is learning to love myself. I think I've always thought of self-love as 'metta' for oneself, and really never knew what that meant. It was just a concept. (Like 'self-care' - I was very mechanical about it, very superficial. Just doing things like going on walks and taking bubble baths. It helps but that's not it.)

I often feel it's unfair that I commit to being a good friend to others but they might not show up for me in the same way. I always feel I'm giving more than I receive. I get very hurt by that. But I'm learning that not everyone can show love in the same way that you would/ that you would want - but it doesn't mean they don't love you. I'm still learning to accept this and not take things personally when people don't match my expectations of what love should look like. It's honestly really hard.

I'm learning that I can be that good friend to myself. I can be that person that I've always wanted for myself. I can love myself in the way that I've always wanted to be loved. I know how to be a good friend - but for some reason I've never able to be that for myself. 

It's a very new concept to me. I've had to do things like talk to myself, like a friend would; acknowledge all my feelings and tell myself it's okay, like a friend would; comfort myself when I'm lonely or sad, like a friend would; take myself out and do things to lift my spirits, like a friend would; pat myself on the shoulder or head, like a friend would. It's a new relationship with myself that I've never had. I've always emotionally relied on others - my therapist pointed out that there tends to always be at least one person in my life that I rely on as 'my person'. But that's not a very secure thing to do, because people change, and relationships change. So relying on someone else to fulfill my needs puts me in a vulnerable position.

I've been contemplating loneliness and relationships. 

Everyone is fundamentally alone. Even when we have friends or partners or family. We are all alone. No one can feel these feelings for us. No one can carry this suffering for us, no one can take it away. We are the only ones who are with ourselves 24 hours a day. Even if we have the perfect partner, the perfect parents, perfect bestfriend - there are times where they just can't be with us. 

It's a very sad realisation because I think we're accustomed to having a sense of security through the presence of others. It's very overwhelming and depressing to realise that that is false.

Sorry if this is all really depressing.

My ankle injury is now a diagnosed long-term health condition. It's osteoarthritis - which is cartilage loss, in the ankle joint. I've been advised to never do high impact activity again, such as running, jumping, all the sports you would imagine. I've also been advised to walk as little as possible from now on.

It's essentially a disability.

It's been so devastating, so incredibly isolating. I don't think the people around me can really understand how it's been, making it all the more lonely. Most of my friends are in their 20s, thriving physically, financially and in relationships. Maybe some have had hard life shit happen at some point - cancer, injury, delaying uni for a year or two, losing a parent. But they get back on their feet and are now thriving.

On the other hand, I feel like my life has been continuously hard since I was 18 - losing mum, getting over a break up with someone I loved for years, joining and leaving a cult that destroyed me mentally, emotionally and socially, being out of school unexpectedly because of the pandemic and being isolated from my social circle. I've made it through all that but now have to come to terms with the reality of an ankle-injury-turned-disability, being out of school for yet another year, and being in a hard relationship.

It feels like nothing is going right, and nothing ever will. It's so exhausting to endure, to pick myself up over and over again. It feels like there's no light at the end, no hope. It feels like there's no meaning in all this. I know the Dhamma - this is just reality, life is suffering, and there is a way out. But I just feel like I don't have the strength anymore to come out of suffering. It feels endless and difficult.

I know suffering is not personal. It's a universal phenomenon. But it's so hard not to look around and take it personally. 

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to handle this. It feels like any effort to get back on my feet is eventually squashed.

I guess, even though it's hard, there is now a feeling of gentleness behind it all. There's a feeling that - this is not ok, but it's ok. Things can only be the way that they are. なるようになるしかない。

Life keeps being hard, but I can keep being there for myself. I can keep being that friend to myself, the one that has my back no matter what's happening. The one that listens and receives and comforts and empathises. The one that is there. I can be that friend. That's the only thing I have, the only thing I can rely on.

I went on a family holiday Langkawi last week. It was the first time done a beach holiday in years. We stayed at The Datai, and it was really nice. Lots of nature, clean beach and sea. I think I was able to relax there and have some insights. For the past 6 months I've been doing the thing of trying to work things out with thinking. As we know, that doesn't work. Stillness leads to insight - something I had forgotten or resisted for a long time. I came back to the realisation which I've had before that there is nothing to do, nowhere to go. Things will happen as the way they need to, when they need to. How I can respond to that is by being in tune with that, not resisting, not grasping. Receiving. Letting. Allowing. Moving gently according to those waves of intuition and clarity, within my boundaries, instead of an ideal or how I want things to be.

My friend Yuki recently said 心配しなくてもいいよ - "You don't have to worry".

There's a deeper meaning to that - more like, whether you worry or not, it will just turn out how it needs to turn out. Things happen on their own whether you're worrying or not. So you really don't have to worry. It's an added burden.

There's a comfort in that. I think we worry because we think we have control and we try to exercise that control. I think worry can be replaced with trust. Trust that things happen their own way. Trust in yourself, that you can respond appropriately, with everything you have in you. You can only do your best. That's really all that you can do.

After everything that's happen, even though it was all incredibly challenging, I know in my heart that I did everything I could. I did my best - my best being what I could do at the time, given the conditions at the time. That's all we can really do. That is enough.

I feel very afraid, a lot of trepidation about how to go through life with these new conditions - never being able to move freely and engage in activities as I would like, ever again. Will I ever be able to walk on my own two feet again? Will I ever be able to explore and experience life the way I've always wanted to? Will I ever be able to be loved the way that I've always wanted? Maybe this is all too much to ask of life.

I don't think I have anything hopeful or wise to leave with you, I don't know how to wrap this up in a nice little bow or a 'everything is going to be okay'. I think this is just one of the ways I'm being a friend to myself - to receive and acknowledge how very hard and scary it has all been.

PS I've been listening to a lot of Kina Grannis lately to help with receiving the pain. I've been following Kina since I was a teenager but don't think I was ever properly listening to or contemplating the lyrics in her music. All I knew was that I liked her voice and her vibe. As an adult, I started actually tuning to Kina's words. She sings gentleness and Dhamma.

Here's a playlist full of her and Jesse's (her partner) music that I listen to often during this season: