Oh, 2018. Where do I even begin with you?

I went into you with such high hopes! I mean, my New Year’s Eve posts of the past are inspiring to even me, you guys, so I go into this year’s post with some serious trepidation. Last year’s post was downright optimistic. Well, kind of. I think I actually did achieve some of last year’s resolutions, though. I definitely have the extra pounds from eating all of that delicious ice cream to show for my efforts. The visits I had from friends all throughout 2018 are also proof of resolutions achieved and yet I find myself feeling oddly unaccomplished.

I mean, I much prefer the NYE post of 2016, but it’s so chock full of failed visions of hope and possibility it almost pained me to re-read it. Mr. Costanza, where ever he is, is shaking his little Italian head, and tsk’ing me in broken English whilst chugging homemade red hooch which is plentiful in heaven.

Reflecting on 2018, I found myself struggling to come up with this year’s angle. I mean, if my memory is worth anything, this year has pretty much sucked but I refused to believe it could have sucked as bad as it felt like it did in my memory. But wait! I have a handy record right here in my blog of this year. I went back to do a little review to reassure myself that 2018 simply couldn’t have been that bad.

So…yeh. I probably shouldn’t have done that either. I have counted the following major events that I memorialized in 2018 to commemorate what might be up there with the top 5 shittiest years in my entire almost 52 on this planet. The following are right there in black and white for all to see:

My descent into further levels of needing assistance to remain upright and forwardly mobile went from trekking poles to transport chairs to rollators (yes, multiple) all in the span of a few months. Then I bought a Mercedes convertible, because of course I did. Kind of a good news/bad news thing going on there.

I’ve had high dose steroids no less than four times in 2018. Some orally, some via IV when I started my Lemtrada treatment. Boy, do I have a love/hate relationship with that stuff! I can only partly blame Prednisone for my expanding waistline, I mean, a quick perusal of posts from 2018 will prove out that my limited mobility kept me in my living room more often than not in 2018, even with my impressive (to me) foray into physical therapy in 2018. I didn’t want to look back to actually count the days I left the house because it truly might depress me beyond the point of no return. But if I did, the number of times I actually left my house in 2018 would be a very low number. Very low indeed.

I fell down quite a few times in 2018. One time, Karl Lagerfeld saved my life. Another time, my living room suddenly became not-so-safe. And yet another time I was on the phone with a co-worker who actually heard me falling on the ground while I yelled at her to KEEP TALKING and pretend I wasn’t taking a nose dive literally as we spoke.

More recently I almost fell when I tripped over one of Clara-my-fancy-Danish rollator’s wheels when trying to climb my steps to the second floor in the dark. I was in full forward motion when I miraculously righted myself before actually hitting the floor. I decided in that split second that almost falling is almost worse than actually falling because your heart nearly stops from the extreme horror of being about to be on the ground but then you aren’t on the ground so you’re just confused and shaking, off balance like a middle aged woman trying to twerk on a NYE dance floor after a few too many glasses of Vueve. It’s not a good feeling, this almost falling feeling. Not good at all.

I had some big important work meetings where I put myself to extreme effort to be in rooms that were not my living room. Some of these meetings turned out really well and the amazing effort felt worth it. Others didn’t and made me wonder why the hell I was killing myself for a job that easily forgot my entire existence when I took three weeks off to recover from Round 1 of Lemtrada. FORGOT ME. Nearly entirely. Like I ceased to exist, professionally speaking. Talk about a rude awakening! The rudest awakening you could call it. But upon reflection I don’t regret any of the extremes I went to in an effort to stay in the game. My job is a part of me with which I’m not ready to be parted so no, 2018, you are not going to boast of my impending retirement. Screw you. I’m going back and you can’t stop me. Not yet.

2018 was kind of like the good news/bad news of years for me.

Good news! You are approved for yet another disease modifying treatment. Bad news…you will feel like your MS symptoms are worse than ever before and wonder if this really was the right decision in the first place. Good news! Your company won the big pitch that came about due to the work you and your team did for ten years building an amazing brand from scratch! Bad news…you aren’t even in the meeting, let alone on the team so you really won yourself a whole lot of nothing. Good news! You helped buy a house for your nephew to live in next door to your mom and it was the best thing ever! Bad news…all of the sudden the furnace is a thousand years old, completely busted and needs to be replaced. Two months after closing. What the hell, universe? What the hell.

2018 you were a straight up bitch. You tripped me up and laughed at me when I struggled to get up again.

But you gave me some amazing things, too. You gave me the ability to help buy a house for my nephew. All of my life I’ve told myself that I work so hard because I like to be useful. Oh, I like nice things! Don’t get it twisted (I did buy that car for myself this year, too, I haven’t forgotten that) but I also like to feel like I can help save the day regardless of how addled my external appearance might lead you to think I am. Nothing in my life, no one single thing, has given me more happiness than being able to play a part of making that kid happy. Giving him his own place to call home made me happier than it could ever make him.

2018 also allowed me to read 31 books. Thirty one! That’s not my record or anything but it’s nothing to scoff at. If I had to spend so much time in the house spending time with my favorite person, I could also do one of my favorite things ever: getting completely lost in a good book. I may have resented it at the time, but those books gave me joy. Maybe they can give you some, too:

A few of those books were surprises mailed to me by great friends. Surprise books in the mail is one of the best possible things! I am a lucky girl.

Speaking of unexpected presents in the mail, one of my readers went to great lengths to show me a merry christmas…it was so thoughtful and obviously time consuming for her that it overwhelmed me. The kindness of strangers continues to amaze me. The kindness of friends and family is beyond what I could ever expect. In my post-Lemtrada haze I’ve had to rely on my friends and family a whole lot. They’ve never let me down. Never once. I am a lucky girl.

More things to tally in the good news column…health insurance that covers all of these ridiculous treatments; people who love me and make time to come to my house to see me when I am not up for leaving it; a home I love and feel safe inside even with all of those stairs; people who understand when I’ve had to cancel visits or plans of some sort because of my unreliable state of physical affairs; enough of everything I could possibly need; enough to help people I love who need help; a young man who has become my lifeline who literally makes me laugh from my belly every time we’re together (he doesn’t just scoop litter and help with chores…he gives me reasons to smile every single day); a mother who still wants to take care of me at 78 years old.

And in the good news column there are also all of you! People who read my words and tell me they’re important. I never thought I’d have something like that in my life. It seems like such a small thing but it’s not. It’s what I’ve wanted to do most in my life since I can remember wanting things. Writing has always been important to me but I didn’t dare think anyone else would find my words of use. You inspire me. You inspire me to want to write more things and do more things with my writing. Some day.

Bring on 2019, BBADdies. It’s gotta be better than 2018, but the truth is, even if it’s just like 2018 I would still be lucky. Even my suckiest years aren’t so bad when I take a step back and think about it. Even when I list out the crappy things, the good things are too obvious not to see. I will get Round 2 of Lemtrada in November 2019. There’s one big thing to look forward to. I will re-start physical therapy soon in 2019.

I will do my best. And that is my wish for each of you. Be kind to yourself. Be the person who loves you most. You’re pretty awesome.