Inner Peace and Growth in 2020
“I’d rather be hard to love than easy to leave.”
The tail end of Calvin Harris’ “Hard to Love” blares through my iPhone’s speakers as I scrub my toothbrush across my teeth. I allow myself to move and groove to the beat of my current life theme song, livening up my body for the day ahead. Not that I’ll be doing anything rigorous—my job involves mainly sitting at a desk—but still, there’s nothing wrong with loosening up to sit.
I steal a quick glance at myself in the mirror. My hair falls in heavy, untamed curls down to my neck, and even though it may look photo-ready now, by the time it dries, I’m expecting to look like a Chow Chow dog. My hair is now just another part of myself I’ve learned to accept and love. I straighten my polo one last time, tell my cats to have a good day, and head for the front door.
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It never ceases to amaze me how fast time flies, regardless of whether or not I’m having fun. It’s already been nearly five years since I moved to Denver from Wisconsin, and looking back on everything, I still wonder how I managed to pack this much adventure into such a short time. I’ve worked for fundraisers in Louisville, a music festival in Denver Tech Center, and now, I’ve unexpectedly landed myself in the cannabis industry at RiverRock in Elyria/Swansea.
None of these were on my list of things to accomplish, but they’ve all done their part in teaching me not only how to handle myself professionally, but also what drives me in my personal life. Most of the professional experiences I’ve had here have led me closer to who I want to be outside of my career. From learning the art of multitasking and project management, all the way down to simply learning to sit and be patient with things I can’t control, it all fits into my own growth.
It hasn’t all been sunshine and rainbows, however. Moving to Colorado was probably the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. I forced myself to do it for my own good, knowing that I would be stuck in my rut if I stayed. As much as I love my friends and family back home, it was time to move on. Despite the sadness, the frustration of finding my own tribe, the nights of being homesick, etc., I’ve created a new and exciting life that’s completely my own, and I’m so grateful for the strength I’ve rediscovered along the way to where I am now.
Sometimes, I feel like I’ve become a completely different person. Looking back and examining who I was even six months ago versus who I’m evolving into right now is quite the difference. Mind you, I’m still far from perfect, but I’ve been floored by my newfound ability to be aware of my old habits and ways of thinking and to take steps to change my behavior to improve myself and my interactions with the world around me. I’m impressed with my willingness to try new things and step out of my comfort zone, too.
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This year has been the toughest year yet for many of us, but it’s also a fantastic opportunity to reflect on ourselves and how we’re feeling. It’s a unique chance to reconnect with the root of who we are and see how in or out of alignment we are with ourselves. I admit it’s been a rough year between a lethal virus, quarantine, wildfires, impending hurricanes, breakups, and an ever-present feeling of anxiety about the unknown;, but, through it all, I’m managing to protect my peace and continue to cultivate who I want to be. Even after this year is over, the growth continues, and I’m so excited to see where and who I am at this time next year.
Joey, Jordan, and I sit in silence in my garage. The soft music plays on as we look out past the open garage door toward the dimly lit street. The tarot cards we’ve been playing with litter the table between us, the images on them coming to life in the flickering candlelight. The hush brings peace to the end of another busy day for all of us. It’s moments like these that I’ve come to cherish about my new life here in Denver. The quiet times with my friends have become a cornerstone of maintaining my inner peace.
As we wind down, I get lost in the shadows cast by the streetlight and imagine my future. I think about all the situations and paths that led me here, and I wonder which road I should take next. Night creeps further along, and darkness closes in, but I’ve never been less afraid of it or more grateful that I’ve stepped back into my light.
