Dear 2020

We're over halfway through you now, and a phrase I keep on hearing is how much people wish they hadn't bothered staying up until midnight on New Year's Eve to welcome you here. I was one of many who did stay up, with two old school friends, and we'd watched the fireworks and raised our glasses and sang along to Auld Lang Syne terribly out of tune. I have an odd relationship with New Year's anyway, a clashing of sadness and happiness, at one year ending and a new one beginning. I've never liked endings, you see. But I cheered and wished good wishes with the rest of them, and I went to bed wishing for a good year, a good decade. But what's happened so far has been really rather different. 

I should have written off this year in January. My best friend Lauren once wrote off a year just six days in (with very good reason) and looking back, I think I could have done the same. January brought me crippling anxiety and panic attacks as I prepared to sit my final university exam. January brought me back to the doctor's surgery, back to two pills a day in the ongoing fight to keep my demons in check. January saw my childhood home emptied, as a long long chapter of my life ended which I hadn't been looking forward to. 

There wasn't a lot to like about January, looking back.

But January also reunited me with the city I love that I lived in, with my uni family, with my best friend. It brought me a fresh semester at my uni, it brought me meetings with tutors and Marie Monday's, which I rather liked. 

February brought rollercoasters and relapses. It tossed storm after storm to batter us and seemed intent on drowning us where we stood. It brought uncomfortable meetings with tutors about my declining mental health. It knocked my number of days clean back down to zero in a flash. 

But February brought me a new job at my uni which I loved, it brought me compassion and understanding from lecturers whom I was terrified would think lesser of me. It brought me evenings with my housemates, crammed in one room sharing pancakes. It brought me a singular, perfect day. Just one, out of all 29 of them, but it brought me a rare perfect day, which I wouldn't trade for the world. 

March brought the entire world to a grinding halt. It brought fear and uncertainty and online lectures. It brought lockdown and the realization that I would not be ending my university chapter the way me and my cohort wanted. It brought us an hour outside a day, it brought daily death tolls and rising cases and fears of getting too close. It brought us tragedy and grief and so much pain I wondered if we'd ever recover. 

But March brought us bravery and resilience, it brought so much kindness, from so many places. It brought communities together, despite distancing. It brought walks to new places and movie nights with my uni family. 

April brought me to my knees. It brought my first holiday away from family, away from those I was desperate to keep safe. April, you brought my worst reality to life. It brought death to me firsthand, so swift, so sudden, I sank into my grief and for a time did not care to ever resurface. It brought a new world for me to inhabit, one I hadn't been ready to face. 

But April, for how terrible you were to me, you did bring other things to.

April brought people who dragged me to the surface and refused to let me drown. It brought me love and kindness and so much support. It brought family dinner Fridays, with a new country every week. It brought resilience and perseverance that I didn't know I possessed.  

May brought what seemed to be an endless aching tiredness. It brought final deadlines that could not be pushed back any longer. It brought my first visit home after over four months away, the first one in 22 years without my grandma there to greet me.

But May brought me gritty satisfaction at the submission of my dissertation and final essays. It brought the end of my university degree, which I had fought tooth and nail to reach, despite my never ending disbelief in myself. It brought me a new books and many happy hours spent hidden away in a blanket fort.  

June brought me death once more just as sudden, still as painful. It brought me rushing home once more, a couple of hours too late. It brought more uncertainty and a future I was struggling to envision. 

But June brought sunshine and days with my uni family, in a paddling pool on our driveway. It brought me a new TV series I love and new characters to relate to. It brought a really good thunderstorm, and a lovely french style family breakfast. 

July brought me endings. And so many goodbyes. It brought the end of my time in the city I loved, with people I loved. It brought the end of something I would have loved to stay living in a bit longer. 

But July brought my best friend back to the same city as me. It brought baking with her once more. It brought me a Children's Lit Friday again, my favourite day of Third year. It brought a meeting with my supervisor again. It brought me acceptance from two universities for masters courses.   

2020, I don't know what the next few months of you will bring. I've only just managed to carve out a vague idea of where I'm heading next. But I'm hopeful the last few months of you will be better. 

I hope you bring warm August days on the farm. I hope the pink fleshed apples from my grandma's tree taste just as sweet as I remember. I hope I'm reunited with my uni family in August.

I hope come September I will love the new city I'm moving to as much as I love the city I've just left.

I hope October brings me a million shades of orange with the turning of the leaves, and that the wind is just cold enough for me to need my favourite scarf. 

I hope November brings many mugs of hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream. 

I hope December brings families together, and that the world has started to heal in some way. 

I hope that come New Year's Eve, I will welcome 2021 the same way I welcomed you, 2020. With good friends and drinks and good wishes for the new year ahead.    

People say that you've been an awful year. Each month seemed to bring a new level of horror to it, that we started to wait with bated breath as the calendar clocked over, in dread of what might come next. And a lot of terrible things have happened so far in 2020. There were many times when I wished this year was over and done with already, but the reality is I can't pick and choose my moments of this year to keep. To throw away all the bad parts of this year would mean I had to throw away all of the good moments I had too. 

So, 2020, we've had a rough few months at the start, but I've had many good moments too. It's hard to remember that sometimes, but I did. And despite everything, I hope that you, 2020, are the start of something great. I hope all the hard months of sadness and uncertainty are used to change many things for the better. I hope I can look back on this decade and see all of the good things that would not have existed without you.