My Word for the (Liturgical) New Year 2021

Autumn always has me thinking about my word for the new year and so, as the seasons changed weeks ago, I began praying with different Saint quotes for possibilities of what my new word might be. I initially thought that I would have a hard time choosing between two words. Then, I decided to pray another 54 day rosary novena (my 3rd one this year and offered, in part, for this intention) and am surprised by what my word for the new year has turned out to be. It's neither of the words that I was deliberating over! Lest I get too far ahead of myself, though...

My word for this past year was an unexpected gift, a checkpoint that proved far more precious than I ever could have anticipated. As I strove to find a Rhythm in the new year I was, at that point, still only a few months on my own after moving out of my parents' home and the same old little things kept frustrating me. I wondered whether Rhythm was the right word at all. 

Then March came along and, with it, COVID came to Virginia. I was surprised by how calm I was in the face of the possibility of such unknown and uncertainty as the stress and anxiety levels of the people around me seemed to shoot through the roof (in fact, I very nearly went out to get a Corona beer as an effort to make light of it the weekend that COVID came to Virginia). Though I cried when I found out that the school year had come to an abrupt end (more for grief over the preschool class that I never got to say goodbye to than from the reality of losing my job), I soon realized that the year and a half of intense therapy I had following my breakdown several years ago prepared me very well for this unforeseen chapter. As I tried to figure out what God would have me do for a source of income while I waited for my school to reopen, my desire to find a Rhythm about these strange days truly helped me to keep my heart up.

So for 5 months, I accepted unemployment, made friends with the most adorable identical twin little boys ever (i.e. a regular babysitting job with a family from my school community), read books with a passion that I hadn't had since high school (Anne of Green Gables, you were the best company!) probably watched a few movies (some of them repetitively), and chose to delight myself in the slow, peaceful Rhythm of the ordinary. In the interest of a good night's rest, I made the conscious decision to not watch the news and relied primarily on my family and housemates for the most vital information. To be quite honest, most of quarantine felt like a much-needed retreat!

I became reemployed in August and the parents who made the courageous choice to send their little ones to school made me (and hopefully my coworkers) feel like superheroes; I quickly turned the sentiment around because I am fully aware that, without them, I wouldn't have a job!

Though the amount of daily cleaning and temperature checks that we are required to do was initially overwhelming and exhausting, I soon fell into a sweet Rhythm and realized that my biggest fear wasn't the possibility and increased risk of catching COVID; rather, it was the risk of becoming comfortable and growing lenient about my standards of cleanliness. I've told myself every day, "Don't become too comfortable". So far, our school has done incredibly well. 

As the weeks went by and October arrived, there was a temporary change to my work schedule which meant that, if I was to have the longer early mornings that I enjoy, I had to be awake at 5am. I could not believe how excited I was in anticipation! I've known for forever that I'm a morning person but that I was energized by the thought of being awake at 5am was a wonder to me and I decided to keep it going. I will admit that 5am is very early, though, so I sleep in until 5:30. As of this writing, it's been not quite two months since I started and I have not hit the snooze button once! I now have ample time in the early mornings before work to read books, go for walks and even cook if need be and I am so grateful for the surprise of this newfound Rhythm.

And with that said, I have found that I like there to be some overlap between Words of the Year and so I'll be enlisting both Rhythm and my new word as we begin a new Liturgical year today. Which brings me to the present moment and my word for 2021:

Surprise

I wasn't certain about it at first but, through a lot of prayer, it's become quite clear both that this is my new word and how I should be praying with it as we enter a new Liturgical year and, soon, calendar year. Each week, I'll choose a different fruit of the Holy Spirit (cf. Galatians 5) to pray with, for an increase of in my life. This year, I want to be surprised by peace, joy, love, gentleness, patience, goodness, faithfulness, kindness and self-control and I so look forward to discovering glimpses of God in the most unlikely places.

No matter what the new year holds, what pleasant or unpleasant surprises may lie in wait, I hope that these fruits will grow deep roots in my heart and better prepare me to accept gracefully whatever life throws in my direction. 

Lord, find me grateful. 

I'm no longer able to allow comments on individual posts but you are welcome to email me your thoughts. I look forward to hearing from you! Keep your heart up!

SARAHFIDDL3R@GMAIL.COM

My Word of the Year for 2020

It was Thanksgiving and the dear friend sitting opposite to me at the table asked me about New Years resolutions. Do I make them and, if so, are they successful? Is it even worth thinking of them? I'm not sure whether or not my answer surprised her; I oftentimes find that my answer does. I proceeded to tell her about my tradition of choosing a word of the year as a kind of checkpoint for the year. My word for 2019 was "Brave". I was inspired by St Joan of Arc ("I am not afraid... I was born to do this!" and "In God's Name, let us go on bravely!") and C.S. Lewis ("Courage, dear heart."), and was it ever perfect! I certainly felt anxious and afraid but I never lost my determination:

Brave.

In January, I continued going to Church even though I had a panic attack during almost every Mass I attended.

In February, I suffered a panic attack on Valentine's Day but, despite my great reluctance, did life anyway the very next day.

In March I began attending a 12 Step Christian support group. The first time I went, I was so scared that I had to take my emergency meds to calm down... now it's been 9 months!

In April, knowing my newly diagnosed allergy to mold could possibly cause a panic attack at my parent's Church, I attended the Easter Triduum solo for the first time at a neighboring Church.

In May, I learned that several coworkers were leaving and I knew that my job title would change which was both terrifying and exciting.

In June, I began hiking most every weekend with a new small group of friends and we so enjoyed getting to know each other better.

In July, the Summer's heat and humidity triggered my anxiety almost every day but I still made myself do life and hydrated as much as possible.

In August, I celebrated my birthday with friends, old and new, at a party hosted by a good friend. My goal was to have fun and meet people and she invited people I'd never met before. By the night's end, everyone expressed how glad they were that they'd come.

In September, I moved out of my parents home and it really didn't take me too long to settle into my new home nestled in the woods by a lake with some of our longtime family friends. Less than a week after I moved, my letter was published on The Catholic Woman blog and I published a follow-up post on my blog about my experience of being suicidal. The latter is now the second most-read post on this little blog with more than 200 views; I don't expect to ever find out how many people read my letter but traffic to my social media accounts increased after its publication and I continue to receive messages from readers who are sharing their hearts with me and asking questions of my story regarding their own stories.

In October, I went on my very first airplane and enjoyed a trip to Colorado with my family.

In November, I joined a cast with my violin and rehearsed for a holiday show.

In December, the show opened, was immense fun and I loved and enjoyed every moment of it. It was especially wonderful to meet and greet people after the show and realize how many of them were people I've met since doing my last show. I love that I spent so much time this year branching out and building a great network of friends both new and old!
I'm not letting go of or burying "Brave"; if anything, I think I've started a new trend for myself! And my new word for 2020:

Rhythm.

I'm inspired by a song lyric from Carrie Underwood (which I think can be beautifully spiritualized), "Dancing to the rhythm of [His] heartbeat", and a quote from Ann Voskamp, "The fastest way to joy is slow".

I told my friend sitting opposite of me at the table that the first thing I'm doing is easing myself off most of my social media accounts. I've already closed my Instagram account and hope to be off Facebook in the next 6 months. I encourage those who wish to continue following my blog to subscribe via email on the righthand side underneath my picture.
Getting off social media is honestly a long time in the coming and, though I'm sad to not see updates from many of the incredible people I've been following for years, I'm excited for the year ahead and to be more and more invested in real life.

Lord, find me grateful!

Dec. 28, 2016: The Day My Life Began to Change for the Better

One year ago today, I published my first post on this blog as a small celebration of the second anniversary of my mental breakdown.

My breakdown happened while I was visiting my parents and my sister had just finished giving me a haircut. After I fainted twice consecutively, I was transported to the ER where I was eventually sent home with the paper that tells you to follow up with your PCP within 48 hours of an ER visit.

I dreaded my first anniversary. My therapist tried hard to help me think of it in a new light but a "spiritual awakening" just didn't sit well with me. I told her that I was so afraid of having a panic attack and fainting again. At last, the only thing that helped even just a little bit was recognizing the significant amount of therapy I'd been through in the meantime and realizing that I was in much better health now then I was before.

Last year, as my second anniversary approached, I was still not excited about it but neither did I dread it. I quietly prepared to start my blog on the anniversary and, the day before, I stopped on my way home from work and bought a piece of tiramisu that I would eat at work the following day to celebrate my anniversary.

And that worked. Just that small, delicious celebration that I treated myself to completely changed my perspective on my anniversary and made it a day that I realized truly is one to celebrate. Though the immediate aftereffects of the day was the hardest experience of my life thus far, I now can see that December 28, 2016 is the day that my life began to change for the better.

Today is 3 years since my mental breakdown - something that seemed impossible to me during the intensity of my suicidal ideations. I've now been at my current job for as long as I was at my "dream job" (read my letter for reference) and I can't believe how much happier I am and how happy I am - but I sure am loving it! I did a holiday show again this year. Last year I was stressed out as I learned the process of creating a show (but I still had an overall incredible time!); this year, I was relaxed as I trusted the process while giving my all at work and at the theater. Today, I'm enjoying brunch and a movie with several friends -- most of whom I didn't even know at the time of my breakdown!

I am alive, happy and embracing opportunities I never thought I could and I truly believe that I am better for them. Lord, find me grateful!

Picture of Bravery

My word for this year is brave. This picture of me was taken a couple weeks before I decided that yet, to me, it is a defining moment of that decision.

I can tell you exactly when this picture was taken: on stage at the top of the second act of A Christmas Carol, playing Angels We Have Heard on High. And I was sick. A stomach bug was going around like the plague at the school where I teach and it had finally caught up with me a week later, just in time for the second weekend of shows. I hadn’t been able to eat much of anything and I’d had an anxiety attack a few hours prior because I so desperately did not want to be sick and so earnestly desired to be in the shows - such a treasured gift it had become to me by then. Despite lack of food, subsequent lightheadedness, and heightened anxiety, I played the shows.

I was not alone. My mom came with me for moral support (because, honestly, I thought I would burst into tears each time I walked off stage, if I even made it off stage first), the director was fabulous and treats everyone like her own son or daughter, and the cast was nothing short of incredible, offering me support, affirmation, and kindness every step of the way.

When I look at this picture, it speaks a powerful truth to me: I am strong and brave. With or without physical illness, I was terrified to get on stage, fought it hard and initially did it only very reluctantly.

The anxiety did not stop me. I am not my anxiety.

After I’d fallen in love with the show and physical illness threatened to rob me of the joy of playing in a couple of performances, I decided to let nothing stand in my way. I was sick, yes, but not so sick that I absolutely could not be a part of the show (a heartfelt thanks to the cast and crew for welcoming me despite my contagious state. I did my job of contaminating everyone quite successfully!). While I am still in disbelief that I was able to push myself through - hard as it was - I am convinced that that is what grace does. 

So I love this picture not because it’s among the only that I have of me playing violin but because to me is speaks of what, with the help of God’s grace, I am capable of doing. And because I know the suffering of severe anxiety I also know that, if I can do something hard and come away with a memory as powerful as this one, you can too.

Challenge: find a picture that speaks to you powerfully as this one does for me and put it somewhere that you’ll see frequently. I ordered a mounted photo of this picture and it now sits on my dresser next to a little mirror to remind “today-me” that I am strong and brave and capable of doing hard things.

This picture was taken from the audience by the father of a cast member who did not know of my illness.

On Making Goals

Every year for the last decade or so I’ve picked a word as my “New Year’s Resolution”. Sometimes I have a Mystery of the Rosary and its corresponding virtue instead. Just before Christmas, I realized that it was that time of the year again and immediately started feeling stressed at the prospect of choosing another word when I didn’t even remember what 2018’s word was (actually, as I’m typing this, I think I do remember). But then, instead of letting myself walk further past that stress to greet the anxiety that was awaiting me, I realized that my word for 2019 had already chosen me.

I finished 2018 with quite the bang - one that I never, ever saw coming. I got back on stage for the first time in 16 years and I played violin. It turned out to be an incredible experience: a community theater production of A Christmas Carol, set in St. Louis in the 1930s. There was an ensemble of musicians playing live bluegrass music on stage and I did what I could to fiddle around with the violin. It truly was great fun! (More on that coming next week.)

Then, as 2019 came closer and closer and was upon us, I created this blog and right there at the bottom of the first post I found the word I was looking for: brave. I was terrified to get on stage but decided that that was not a good enough reason to not do the show, so I did it anyway. I was scared to click publish on the first post of this blog but - with the same kind of motivation - did it anyway. I truly hope, as hard as it will be, that writing this blog will motivate me to do hard things in real life to give me something to write about - thus this year I need to challenge myself to be brave.

I find goals to be far less intimidating than resolutions. It seems to me that resolutions are easily failed then the maker of them says miserably that they couldn’t live up to their own expectations. Whatever. I like goals better. They sound like they have more opportunity and are better for learning in the school of life. So my goal for being brave this year? I’ll start by putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes that’s what we call taking a leap of faith.