I love beginnings. I’ve talked about that a lot in the nearly five years that I’ve been writing here.

I like rituals surrounding beginnings. However arbitrary the new year might be as a time for that, it’s cathartic. It’s a marker. Reflecting on a year’s worth of partial life-documenting has become one of those rituals for me.

On long road trips, state lines are key points of achievement. I love heading south and west when the mile markers are counting down, letting you know how far you are from your next accomplishment. The first couple state lines don’t actually make much difference on a 24 hour road trip, but they’re celebratory all the same. I like to pass the time by doing mental math and working out what speeds I’d have to travel to reach the state line at certain times.

Maintaining this blog — when I take the time to do it — is a similar exercise in some ways. It’s a place to mark the achievements, which include even my low moments because by the time I decide I’m ready to say, “I fucked up,” or “This fucked up thing happened,” in so public a manner, I’ve gotten somewhere. Achievements come in all shapes and sizes.

2014 was a reminder of that.

Writing like this, of course, differs dramatically from my mile marker math because there is no end goal. There is no finish line.

Not technically, at least. Last year, though, I made one up. I started the year with a theme and a list of major goals — some minor ones too — and in the end I think I did a damn good job. Fortunately, I’m the only judge in this competition.

The theme process felt really personal to me. I was squeamish about sharing it with anyone, partially because part of me finds it a little embarrassing. It’s easier to pretend there are absolutes and brush away the challenges of arriving at some semblance of whole, fully formed human being.

My theme for the year was illuminate. The word just clicked with me in a way that I couldn’t articulate. It meant two things to me (1) that I wanted to have a clearer sense of what things lit me up, what inspired me -and- (2) that I wanted to light a way forward for myself.

I was in a horrible place this time last year and above all else, I wanted to come into 2015 not feeling that way and also feeling like I had things to look forward to. Major mission: totally fucking accomplished. Pats on the back, high fives, the whole bit. I did it! Woo!

In some ways, the very act of planning things for 2014 is part of what helped me get better. It took some help to get me there, but at the time I dearly needed the reminder that there was a future to look forward to.

I started last year reflecting on one loss, and then being torn open all over again. It was a time when I was exceedingly grateful to have this blog — even if it also made things harder for a little while. It enabled me to actually support my sister in the way she most wanted it. And from that anger, I wrote a few of my favorite posts.

But then things started to pick up. I was rebuilding.

I look back on my list and feel like I hit the things that mattered. I wanted to be out of Missouri or, at the very least, have a concrete exit plan in place by the end of the year. Check. I wanted to finish my thesis, complete my MA. Check.

I had a ton of small goals related to honesty and openness, most of which I accomplished. This blog is responsible for most of the successes. Aside from that: I went to see a therapist in January. It was a fucking nightmare, but much like the act of planning to go forward, knowing that I did it — that I got up and put one foot in front of the other and made the thing happen — worked wonders. I wrote a very difficult blog post about the nightmare of 2013, whose shadow I was still struggling out of when the new year began.

I briefly traveled alone. I traveled with family and with friends. I drank lots of wine with one of my best friends in Paris while also successfully completing VEDA. I got to be part of big, exciting celebrations. We got Snark Squad just enough income to make it self-sufficient, which was a glorious achievement. I journaled almost every single day. I moved. I started a new job and an important new chapter in my life.

There are some things that I did not do. I did not not read 50 books. I did not move abroad. I did not establish a consistent blogging schedule or go on a single OKCupid date.

And all of that is fine too. The journaling fell off just as the year was ending, because it got lost in the shuffle of moving. I was upset when I realized I had blown my glorious 750 words streak, but I got over it almost immediately because I realized that the ritual was no longer necessary — at least not in the same way. That’s not to say that I no longer think daily writing is valuable, but that the problem I set that goal to fix was no longer there. On the day in December when I realized that I had inadvertently skipped a day (I don’t think I was even doing moving things — I think I had been playing board games all day) I also realized that my December 2014 self was in a very different place than the 2013 self who needed and mandated that activity. I missed a day. Life carried on.

In much the same way, none of the other goals that went unmet leave me feeling any amount of regret. Last year I wrote down a big list of things and it was a little like drunkenly throwing darts at the wall, praying that something would stick and, you know, hoping that nobody would get hurt. A lot can change in a year, and in that time, I gradually saw that not all of those things served me. I’m glad I wrote it all down — obviously I’m a sucker for that kind of documentation and record-keeping — but I’m content to let all of those things just be goals I once had.

I spent 2014 figuring out what things made me feel whole and happy and complete. Sometimes that meant doing grueling, slightly miserable things. (The terrible therapist told me that I should give up on my thesis and find Jesus and throw myself into my co-dependent relationship with my sister. He was a real winner. I’m proud of myself for the fact that however fragile I was, I was just whole enough to recognize that advice as pure bullshit.)

I haven’t decided on a theme for 2015 yet, in part because I can’t think of anything that will fulfill that totem-like function that last year’s word did. It was never something that came into play in my decision-making — I never really sat down and thought, “Better make sure I’m acting in accordance with my theme!” Rather, it was this thing that gave me reassurance when I was feeling shaky. It was a reminder to myself that I could actually trust my own judgement — something that I had forgotten for a little while.

And maybe I just need to find a different way to approach it now. I’m not sure. I’ll have to take some time to sit with it and see.

Whatever happens, I am excited about this new year. I am excited not just to watch 2015 unfold, but to make this year whatever it will be. To be present for all of its twists and turns. Maybe I just found my theme.