2020 was a year of drama.
I was betrayed by fake friends, deceived by some narcissists, and falsely-accused by chronic liars. I had a torn ACL complication, an emergency appendectomy, a lot of rapid cycling manic-depressive episodes, and a yo-yo-ing weight problem. My bank account hit a negative balance and my grey hairs have spread faster than the Corona Virus.
2020 was a year of realizations.
I reconciled with former mentors, mended broken friendships, was reunited with childhood classmates, and finally received the written closure of a toxic relationship. My face was printed on a cover of a maga-book and I was given an offer for another book project. I had my first awkward talks about mental health and I birthed a new vlog series (which I still have to sustain).
2020 was a year of triumphs.
I finally flew on my own without my instructor, stood my ground to own a paragliding business, forged new partnerships with honest people, and discovered an exciting new venture. Our paragliding team (instructor, crew, and core students) remained intact. And we ended the year with a successful #FLYVIZCAYA paragliding event.
2020 was a year of faith.
My brother got married and my high-risk mother is still alive. Special friends sent me regular financial help in my darkest months and asked nothing in return. I am constantly fed by other people, I am the only jobless person who has grown fat in poverty. My barkada stood by me, my family and relatives cheered for me, my friends supported my projects and strangers became new allies.
Am I happy to face 2021 alive? To be honest I am not. I feel exhausted. Does it make me an ungrateful person? Only God knows my mind. Does it make me less a Christian? Only God knows my heart.
As the clock strikes 12 and the happy noises around me signal the dawn of a new year, I wipe my tears, raise my arms into heaven, and with a big smile I declare, “Lord, walk with me in another year of drama, realizations, triumphs, and faith!”