Circles and feelings and things I am not used to. I’ve spent so much of my life avoiding both of those things that it would seem I’d know better by now, but I do not. If life has taught me anything over the years, it was that everything that you love either leaves you or dies. I don’t say this to be dramatic though I also suspect you don’t believe me and that’s okay. I wouldn’t believe me either if I didn’t live it, and even then I struggle with that anyway.

I started writing this over a month ago, and haven’t come back to it until now. Ironically, I sat back down at my computer to write, opened it up, and went to start a new post thinking of titling it Circles after the circles my brain has been running in lately to find that I already started these thoughts a month ago – I had just managed to somehow push them out of my mind until now.

Funny how things can feel so real and so not at the same time. Funny how three years later and whether I want to believe it or not, my brain reminds me in the back of my mind just how not long ago these circles were the place that I lived, all the time that year and the year after and then some. It’s a time I try to not go back to, a time I think I’ve put – and tried to leave – in the past yet this time every year for the three years now since, like clockwork it’s there. Even when I try to keep myself busy. Even when life keeps me busy with a packed schedule of practices and games and work and life and everything I’m trying to fit in into days that never seem to be quite long enough, or have enough daylight or time to get everything done.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the reason to not trust without wanting reassurance but perhaps needing it anyway. I haven’t cried (yet) this holiday season and hoping to make it through the first one in a while without those tears of frustration, anguish, mistrust in myself and in life around me, and finally moving beyond the near and far past that I keep saying belongs right there – in the past.

Trust is hard for me. I’ll tell you everything about me, what I’ve been through, what I’ve experienced. But telling you how I’m feeling is hard. Telling you my fears is hard. Letting myself really open up and trust is hard. More than that, it’s scary. Outright terrifying really. Though I know it shouldn’t be, it still is for me. I’m not quite sure how to move forward from that, but I know I’m trying. Maybe I should just say, hey, I’m struggling, I need some reassurance but somehow I don’t know how to quite put that into words. At least not for real. Because those words need to be followed up with feelings and intentions and all of that is hard. I just want to skip ahead to the part where everything is okay.

I’m not used to sharing my life with someone. It’s hard enough trying to figure out the holidays on my own, but for years it was what I was used to. Christmas Eve staying up late watching my favorite movies after coming home from seeing a few family members became a new tradition. Christmas Day on the farm often by myself with the animals became a comfort because it was a constant and something I could trust. I didn’t have to rely on or hope for anyone else to be there because I already knew they wouldn’t be and so therefore it was easy. It was me, and I knew where’d I’d be and what I’d be doing and ultimately there was comfort in that solitude that didn’t feel like being alone. It felt like being home and at peace.

But in the past several years, I learned that sharing space with loved ones isn’t a bad thing. It can be quite the opposite – a blessing and a comfort all its own. It brings a different kind of peace, and joys that aren’t the same when it’s just you, but different ones and in many ways better. I always want to share the good times in life with the people I love, and I always want to be there to help the ones I love through their hard times. I am just not sure how to let others be there for me and as such, I just tell everyone I am okay, I’m doing fine, things are good, and deal with whatever it is my head is running me in circles over in my own way. I don’t know that I want to do it that way anymore, but I also don’t know how else to be.

I’m struggling. I need help. A hug. Someone to tell me it’ll all be okay. I’m getting there. In another week or two this will also be in the past and I will be better. Back to my old self, but better. A new year, another path forward, another chance at growth. I’m always growing, always learning, always becoming more of who I am and always working to be better than who I was yesterday and who I am today. If nothing else, I can always promise that I am honest, I am trustworthy, and I’ll always speak my truth even when it’s hard. All you have to do is ask.