My go-to look for 2013. Acne and all.
You were a real doozy, you know that? I’m not even going to sugarcoat it because you didn’t sugarcoat any experience that you threw my way. In fact, I’m rather suspicious that your whole goal wasn’t to try and break my spirit. (Spoiler alert: you didn’t.)
Days spent with my Munich Munchkins were full of Love.
January brought with it snow. Lots and lots of snow. And then a handsome Frenchman whose presence hit me like a hurricane. And whose damage after it ran its course left considerable damage. But during the whirlwind of a romance I had setup camp on cloud nine. Nearly breaking ground on a foundation. (Seriously, the concrete was ordered, ready to lay.)
I’ll truly never forget this Karnival. Holding hands and running around this day was perfect.
February was nearly perfect. In hindsight, much better for other reasons than noticed at the time.
This day was a milestone. Unknown at the time.
March. March was a real mess. Most spent in tears. Crippling sadness spent in bed, a million miles from home.
My mom came to visit!
But April rolled around and somehow, little by little, I was able to pull myself together.
I visited my friends + family in Northern Germany and it was perfect.
And snuggled my nieces and nephews.
May and June were spent coddling my tender heart back home.
Koenigsee with new dear friends.
July was an absolute shit show. In the greatest of ways. So many friends were made. An incredible amount of adventures were had. Even though it brought with the theft of my cell phone and a chipped tooth, it was a monumental month for the year. My whole energy shifted, a new mood settled in the air, and being independent felt incredible.
I had both the world’s greatest roommates, and the world’s greatest balcony. Le sigh.
August came with one of the most devastating blows in regards to dreams go. But I learned that a career does not define you, and your dreams are not set in stone. Everything is perpetually changing. And so are God’s plans for us.
Too many beers were drunken with new friends from all over the world. (Danes above.)
September was absolutely perfect. After coming to terms with what the rest of the year held (moving back to the States) and taking time to relish in my new friendships, the unknown became less scary to me. I met it halfway, grabbed its hand and said “Alright then, let’s go!”
I bid Munich farewell in fashion.
threw me for a loop, with many perks, as well as many nights of tears. But I survived. We always do.
And a few school programs to attend.
November was riddled with anxiety, more so than usual, and I had to come to terms with it. Taking things hour by hour is sometimes how you get by. And it saved me in so many ways.
Never enough laughs with friends.
Oh, December. You’re always a box of surprises. You weren’t terrible. You weren’t great though by any means. You have this way of magnifying the hurt while everything around you glows with hope, quite literally.
Babies make Christmas so much more fun.
2013, we made it. You tried your best to keep me down, but here I am. Ready and feisty as ever to jump into 2014 with nothing but hope.
You’ve made your presence known. That things can change in an instant and the world owes you nothing. You’ve made lessons hard, and tests harder. But you’re done here.
But before we bid adieu, there’s one last thing:
Thank you. For the times of utter bliss, the times of adventure, and, even the times you walked right over me while I was down. I got up. And now I’m stronger, smarter, and ready for whatever 2014 throws my way.
And you know what, it’s going to be so good. Everything that brought me here will be worth it. Every single sadness.
Love ya, but I won’t miss ya,
see this .gif.
Breathe, my friend. You are not old, you are young. You are not a mess, you are normal. Extraordinary, perhaps. In the blink of an eye your life will change. And it will continue to change for decades to come. Enjoy it, embrace it… be grateful for the ride. You are not old, you are young. And faith will get you everywhere. Just you wait. — Abby Larson