A Love Letter to 2024
Dear 2024,
This year was big for us. Between giving up the apartment I lived in for 14 years and my hair growing so much that I can now put it in a bun without using so much as a bobby pin to catch those stray, pesky, itchy neck hairs - you came through in many ways. Thank you Oaxaca, Julie + Family, Jane + Laura, Nan, Susana, Frank + Frankie, Aunt Deb + Uncle Al, Mom + Dad for a home. And an honorable mention to smoothies, sweet potatoes, bone broth and $30 hair trims. I’ve had a lot to be grateful for, big and small.
I donated the majority of my belongings and it felt special to give them away in a hope that they would be received by someone else in order to create their second chance at life. We all deserve a second chance.
You were the year that I took my 44th dance around the sun and with whom I celebrated two years of celibacy (AKA: 2 years of respecting myself over seeking validation). I tried hot yoga and did some funky moves too. Although I felt physically stronger than I ever have, ironically, I also got injured (a torn rotator cuff, bringing all of my Mary Lou Retton and yoga teaching dreams to a standstill - as well as my return to Oaxaca). Our ending feels weak and I am out of sorts. I am out of my routine, and my plan has been delayed, but I have to hope that a better one is on the horizon. BUT THE HAIR WIN HAS MADE UP FOR A LOT. It’s nice to wake up with hair ease, you know? You only know if you’ve had 3 years of bad haircuts. At least recovering from shoulder surgery in 2025 won’t be too bad, from a hair standpoint, because my aunt will be able to tie my greasy perimenopausal hair up into a ponytail while she acts as my caretaker.
While there was no dating or hanky panky in 2024, there were a lot of letters written to God and, shockingly, they did not include queries about work or money or angry and impatient questions like, “WHEN YOU GONNA FIND ME A HUSBAND AND GET ME LAID, GOD?” I wrote letters to God on behalf of peace for others and for myself. I wrote letters about trusting God and having Faith in my life, with one plea constantly repeated, “Dear God, Please help me to be of service to others and help me to let go of what’s not meant for me.” God met my words and gifted me a few months of freelance production work, time in Mexico to teach, write, do yoga and lean in for hugs. I was met with time back in the states to celebrate my dad’s 80th birthday; time to caretake and cook for my parents, Aunt + Uncle without distractions. There was precious time with my cousins, girlfriends, time in the kitchen with my goddaughter and time for me to see my Uncle John before he passed on. God gave me time, a dream come true.
Having time together brought up many challenging conversations with family, but most of us rose to the occasion together. There was a lot of healing and acceptance, too. Honestly, there’s way too much to write about here, so I’ll just say thank you for my family who I now see differently and can be with in love and appreciation. I know I’m still an anger ball (sometimes), but I’m exploding less. There’s always work to do.
While not having Apartment B2 feels weird, even in my peace, she will forever be memorialized in publication this January 2025. Two pieces of writing that I penned in 2024 will see the light of magazine print, in The Sun, early on in the new year. You gave me space and time to write. You gave me the courage to sit down and tell stories with my own words; to share those experiences that have been forever marked on my heart.
But the biggest take away you gave me … it’s ok to move forward without fully knowing my next step. You made me choose and you continue to. You helped me become more trusting, knowing that I’m exactly where I am meant to be - even if that’s sexless, with my life in suitcases, a busted shoulder, and temporarily shacking up in my Aunt and Uncle’s attic pre and post surgery. I mean, not many people have family they’re that close to, especially family with an in tact attic and pretty morning light.
You taught me to relish in the luxury that is simplicity. Having less really does feel like more (except in the case of hair growth, more is more). And if I keep moving forward with the big beating heart that is buried underneath my silicone breast implants, I’m going to be alright - you’ve shown me that. While I await continuing to bare my heart to someone, and not only my breasts, I have found patience and pride - respect and wonder.
Finally, I realized that I have been in love. But he didn’t love me back. I sat with that heartache, processed it and moved on. It was hard, but I did it. And as I get to know myself more, I’ll understand the romantic love that I deserve - what to give and how to receive it. I’ll get there.
Let the past take a bow, the forever is now, and there’s nowhere to go but up.
We got up, 2024. And although I’ll be in a recliner to start 2025, I believe that there is more light ahead. More light, strength, cooking, laughter, love and hugs than I can probably imagine.
Until soon.
Love Always,
Tina
PS: Want to write your own love letter to 2024? Get started by clicking here. It’s the perfect way to close out the year and reflect on its many joys and learnings.
PPS: I got my Learner’s Permit and hope for a license to drive in 2025. The old adage is true, better late than never.
PPPS: Thank you to all of my friends who helped me pack, took an apartment B2 book, piece of boob art or relic. For the morning phone call walks, the check-ins in Mexico and now - you know who you are. I love you with every piece of my beating heart.
xoxoxox