Dear 2017,

You have been the most challenging year of my adult life and I will not miss you. As this odd year ends I find myself completely empty of hope, and filled with dread of things to come. I often tell my daughter that I can see the future when addressing situational dangers, and at times I am right. I know that she is about to fall or break something, because gravity and momentum are not a mystery to me. But as this period gives way to the next, my personal momentum feels grave and mysterious, and the future feels anything but bright. I’m not looking for advice or guidance, I write this not for sympathy or empathy, but to get it out of my head for a while. To make it solid, on electronic paper, because my thoughts feel anything but that right now.

The terrifying thing is that I know that the potential exists, for worse years to come. Going to sleep at night with that knowledge is becoming increasingly difficult. While I had grand visions of 2018 being the best year of my life, due in part to the number itself, I am very aware of just how unrealistic and self-indulgent that mindset is.

I'm posting this here, now, because I don't believe that any of us keep it real on social media. I fail to see any honesty in a well curated life, and honesty is the one thing I am determined to be, with you and with myself.

Your unfaithful participant,