2018, Go Jump in a Lake

Saying goodbye to 2018 feels like breaking up with an abusive boyfriend/ girlfriend; very necessary, yet very traumatic. As we count down the few remaining days of the year, we look back at what we have accomplished, lost, or figured out. Or so we are all told we are supposed to be doing. I'd rather have a wine induced coma that blacks out the year's events, but my therapist says I can't do that.

I could try to list all the fantastic things that did give highlights to this year, like the honeymoon period an abuser uses to beg you back, asking you to over look the vile things they have done, but in the end it's still an abuser. We did start out in the stunning country of Colombia (awesome), I was flown to Rochester to be a judge for The Great American International Wine Competition (incredible), we had an array of exceptional mini trips and parties including my 40th birthday (delightful), and the winery is exploding in a way that has stunned the four of us owners (fantastic). But that doesn't encompass the daunting nature of 2018 and its abusive core.

2018 was a beast! If you didn't feel run over by the year, congrats, pat yourself on the back. Most people I have talked to, tell tales of the carnage this year has left in its wake, shock and awe in their eyes; somehow blindsided by just how ruthless life can be.

Personally, we have had to face disproportionately difficult experiences and losses. The kind of stuff that turns your world upside-down, forcing those around you to groan under the pressure as they try to help support. It has been a year that has challenged every single one of my relationships, like a especially hard birth, we have had to bear down and force ourselves through it. As I have eeked out to the other side of avalanche after avalanche, I think of the cliche "what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger" and while that may bring comfort to some, it makes me want to rage into the night. I am consumed with anger, frustration, fear and anxiety at the amount of crap 2018 has thrown at me.

I should clarify, I am not constantly angry (well...my husband might disagree with that, but clearly he has forgotten the golden rule of marriage: The Wife is Always Right). My anger seems to be sourced in the fight I have with what is verses what I want it to be. I must untangle the 'compound grief' I am struggling with as I sort out the complex layers of events that tumbled into this year. Who the hell am I after all this turmoil and grief? We just began to celebrate my good health, only to have a scare it was returning. There were wild occurrences that demonstrated that nothing is what you thought it was. Who are the people around me as they struggle with their own issues that arise as they try to help me? What about as they deal with their own tangled experiences? This year became a whirlpool of confusion and angst. Like Ben Stiller's character in the movie Zoolander  who asks longingly as he stars at a reflection of himself in a puddle, "who am I?" and the reflection answers shrugging nonchalantly "I don't know". This is followed by a passing car splashing the mud from the puddle into his face...2018 is the mud in the face.

What I do know is that I have seen friends and family members transform into the most incredible, generous, supportive, loving, gracious people I've ever met. I always knew they were phenomenal, but like coal, compressed under extreme pressure, they shine like diamonds in the light of the dark shadow 2018 has cast. So for that, thank you 2018. Now get the hell out of the way cause 2019 is going to kick your A$$!

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com