whiplash

Hello 2024. You happened so fast, I didn’t even have a chance to really reflect on 2023. For all the peripatetic momentum centrifuging through December, it felt like whiplash to end the year with all the life outcomes that I hadn’t planned for at the start of the year.

Finding the atlas of ambition altogether, and alone. Moving back to New York permanently on the coldest day to be had in some three years. Starting a job that felt unwritten. Leaving a job that felt unfinished. Meeting my doppelganger living the life of all my alternative life choices. Coffee tasting Costa Rica. Coasting in Croatia. Crying in Copenhagen.  Unwinding the unspoken. Feeling like I never ran the marathon, even though I did.

A year older, a year supposed wiser. A year of discovery and some degree of recovery

As per a relatively recent tradition, I spent New Year’s Day manifesting the future while walking among the houses of Broadway in San Francisco. I decided if 2023 was a year of recovery, 2024 is my year to restart. Not with a whimper but with a bang. Welcome back Allison.