Kara Gordon

Returnings

A fortnightly letter to the people going at 100 miles an hour. We all have the things that keep us grounded: to-do lists, morning routines, communities, and rituals to keep us sane. But when things get tough, they often fall to the wayside. Here's a reminder to refuel.

Just Another Day

Today is the first day of 2018. It’s a Monday, the first day of the week, and that is satisfying. A reset day for a reset year.

I enjoy reflecting on the past year and setting intentions for the year ahead. I enjoy coming back to these throughout the year and seeing how my path has changed or how it remains the same. In 2016, I decided I wasn’t going to move. I moved and it was the best decision I could have made. In 2017, I made myself that same promise and kept it. It was the best decision I could have made. At the beginning of 2016 I swore off men and fell in love. At the beginning of 2017 I was in love and then I stayed in love, but 2017 was also the year my heart was broken and I wanted to punch all of the men I love and adore in the face. 2017 was a hard year to be a woman.

The past year can be best summed up as a constant hum of dissatisfaction, uneasiness, and uncertainty. I was in the Right Place with the Right People but I couldn’t escape the feeling that I need to do something, move forward with anything. I am an anxious and depressed person by nature but at some point my internal alarm simply ran out of battery. At first I thought it was the political climate, and it was partly that, but I marched and I yelled and the gnawing feeling remained. The Right Place was still the Right Place, but I was not the Right Person for that place, so I had to become that person. Some of the Right People became the Wrong People and some of the Wrong People were perhaps the Right People. Time will tell.

I hate neat stories in fiction. They should be messy and uncomfortable and jarring. Nothing is more dissatisfying than a story where everything works out. But in my own life, I prefer pretty bows with a beginning, middle, and end. Maybe it’s delusional, but I’m a believer in the significance of beginnings: ask me sometime to tell you the story about how I met someone—anyone—I love. Even more important, I believe in saying goodbye well: I’m sorry, thank you, I love you. Few things make me angrier than a bad goodbye. I began 2017 in Berlin and said farewell in Lisbon. Two new, beautiful cities with my two wonderful parents. I hated 2017, but I like the symmetry.

As I wave a happy goodbye to 2017 and welcome 2018 with skeptical optimism, I look on either side of me and realize I am not at a point of beginning or ending. I am smack dab in the middle. Who knows what lies ahead?

Happy new year,
Kara

Kara GordonComment