Every single year at about this time, I write my hopes and dreams for the year that is about to begin. As I do this, I also take time to reflect on the past year. I think about what I've learned. I remember all that I've lost. I smile over each thing that I've gained. Sometimes, a sadness creeps up my spine and I find myself having a hard time letting go of the year. I realize, each year, that I've grown attached to the current times. Sometimes, I think, it's because I'm worried that the next year will not hold as much happiness as the previous year. Other times, I fear that the new year will not, in fact, bring the answers to my prayers. This time of the year is hard for me, and it always has been. Perhaps, even, it always will be. Each year has been more monumental to the building of my character than the year before it, and at some point, I'm going to have to wonder when this pattern will end. A small part of me hopes that the pattern of ongoing improvement will be endless and infinite.
I've always heard people say, "That was the best year of my life." The look in their eyes when they make this statement is undeniable and absolutely cannot be created by a person who does not truly mean what he or she is saying. But, I can say the very same thing about so many years. The funniest part of all of this is that some of my most cherished years were the ones that I described as the worst years of my life. These were the years with the most trials, the largest number of nights spent crying myself to sleep, and the most days that I wore the heavy mask of a happy person who is not truly happy at all. These were the years in which I got hurt by people that I loved. These were the years that I hurt myself. These were the years in which I failed at every single thing I attempted to do. This may seem strange to other people, but it makes perfect sense to me. In order to receive rewards in life, one must be in the right place at the right time. But, in order to appreciate these rewards, this person must have, at some point in time, been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Two people could experience an equally and seemingly boring day. To one of these people, this day would be forgotten completely, seeing as nothing good happened. To the other, it could be the best day he or she has had in an extremely long time, simply because nothing bad happened. In the same sense, some people may look at some years of my life and think that I was a failure. To others, I may look like a survivor.
2008 was a year of trials, changes, love, pain, suffering, and hard work. It was also a year filled with laughter, photographs, lessons, friendships, and risks. I had to deal with health problems this year and had to have two surgeries. But, I found a strength in myself that had been sitting in my soul, just waiting to be needed. I had my heart broken, and I broke the heart of another. But, in return, I found someone who put my heart back together. Even though my breakup with Kyle was painful, in the end, it was worth it. Russell and I began dating days before I had my first surgery, but as he took care of me during my two week recovery, I felt as if we had been together for years. We learned everything about each other during these two weeks. We stayed up and talked until the sun came up. He did every single thing he could to make me feel better. He did not have to do this, and most people would not be willing to go to those measures that early in a relationship. Russell never questioned what he was doing, though. We fell in love more quickly than I ever thought was possible, and if I had to go through it again, surgery and all, I wouldn't even think twice. It was worth it. In August, I began a semester filled with some of the hardest classes I've ever taken. I worked harder than I've ever worked before. I stayed up all night writing papers, studying for tests, and reading British Literature. I was exhausted every single day of the semester. I did not have time to travel and see my friends as much as I would have liked, because I had so much homework, reading, and sleep to catch up on. By the time midterms rolled around, my grades looked good. After midterms, I started feeling sick again. I was having terrible cramps and pains in my lower abdomen, but I was too busy to go to the doctor to have it checked out. I was piled with school work, and did not have time to worry about silly cramps. Then, I woke up one morning and could not even speak because my pain was so intense. Russell made me go to the doctor, who sent me to the hospital, where I was admitted. After days of tests, they decided to do emergency surgery. I had my appendix removed, as well as a golf sized ovarian cyst. One day after being released from the hospital, I went back to school. I was extremely behind with my work, and had one night to prepare for a speech, as well as write a paper. It was hard, and I was exhausted, but I did it. I stood up in front of my class, with my bandages and pain meds, and gave a speech. It wasn't a fantastic speech, but I got through it. Because my teacher knew that I'd just had surgery, she gave me a good grade. She could have given me an F, though, and I still would have been proud. It was one of the worst days of this year, but I'd never been more proud of myself. It was worth it. I worked hard to catch up in the four other classes, and eventually, I did. I could not drive on my medicine, so Russell had to take me everywhere. Life went on, and I recovered just as quickly as I did from the first surgery. Time for finals rolled around, and I stayed up for nights, reading and taking notes for my British Lit final, which was the hardest exam I've ever taken. I know so many poems from beginning to end. I know the life stories of these authors who lived so long ago. I learned about the stereotypical roles of the members of these societies of the past. I forgot about sleep, food, and having a social life. When I went to take this final, though, I went completely blank. I was in a panic. I bombed. However, after I turned the final in to my professor, he returned the paper that I'd written that was worth a large portion of our grade. I was already in tears, and since he is a strict grader, I was afraid to look at the back page to see my grade. When I got to my car, though, I noticed that all of the red ink that covered my paper contained words of praise and compliments. I flipped through the pages until I got to the last one, and when I saw the big A with a circle around it, I forgot all about the final that I'd just done so badly on. I put my heart into that paper, and my work was appreciated. All of the sleep I'd missed, the work I'd done, and the things I'd learned suddenly became worth it. IT WAS WORTH IT. And, that's how I feel about my entire year. Every single bad thing that happened was completely worth it. In my book, there's almost nothing better than being able to say that and really, truly, honestly mean it.
Before I wrote this, I played a game of chess online. I've been doing that a lot lately. When playing chess, one has to be patient. Each move that is made changes the game entirely. Each move is equally important. One must be able to simultaneously look at each possible response to the move he or she just made while considering what he or she will do in return to these responses. Sacrifices must be made. A chess player must decide which pieces he or she believes is most important. I think that life is a lot like chess. People say that it's a game of strategy, a game of war. There are two sides to the board. I can control every move that I make on my side, but I have abosolutely no control as to the moves made by the opposing side. I must try to set up the opposing side so that it is forced to make the moves that I desire. Isn't that what we do in life? We say certain things in the pursuit of hearing what we want to hear in response. We love others in whatever way we think will prompt them to love us in return. We do the things that we love to do in the hopes that somewhere in the world, someone will appreciate our talent, which could, in turn, open doors for us. We control ourselves in ways that let us control others without them knowing it. It's a hard concept to understand, but then again, chess is not the easiest game. Strategy equals manipulation, no matter which way a person attempts to describe it. The point of chess is to protect the king. In life, each person's deepest desire is to protect him or herself from harmful people, feelings, events, etc. In chess, the queen can move in any direction for any distance. In real life, the queen could represent the part of ourselves that, when placed in certain situations, would go to any measure to protect what is most important. The queen is bold. The queen takes risks. If the queen is ever captured, though, the game almost seems doomed. The soul is taken out of the game. In life, the soul is too precious to live without. In the end, the queen becomes more useful than the king. The queen gives hope to the game. Without hope, there is no desire. Without desire, there is no win. These same unwritten laws apply to life, too. Rooks are important in chess, too. They're pushed to the corner of the board, and often go unnoticed until they are needed. In life, our parents are the rooks. I tend to push my parents away, but I'm still quick to call on them when I need them. In chess, rooks are often used as a sacrifice piece. They come in, save the king, and then they're gone. We expect that, at some point, we will lose the rooks to the other side. It hurts the game, but it does not end it. In life, we all expect that one day, we'll lose our parents. But, they do all that they can do for us while they're here. They change our lives. Rooks change the game. Bishops are important in chess, too. They swoop across the board, often taking out as many of the bad guys as they can. In my life, Russell can be represented by the bishop. He would go across the world and back for me, but if I'm not where I'm supposed to be, then he cannot help me. If I do not protect him in return, I will lose him, too. In a game of chess, the game is not doomed when the bishops are lost. However, it becomes much harder. It feels much more like the king is working alone in a downhill battle. The queen becomes the main source of help, but without protection, it is much easier to lose the queen. In life, without Russell, it would have been much easier to lose the hope and desire that got me through this battle that we call life. In chess, knights do not have many options as to where they can go, as well as how fast they can travel. They are usually seen as disposable, and although they do help build a winning strategy, they cannot be counted on to complete significant tasks. We have knights in real life, too. They stand by us, they protect us, and they work for us. But, sometimes, they're gone before we can even realize it. Our real life knights, to me, represent the people that enter our lives, inspire us, and leave. We, at one point in time, needed them. They helped us. We never forget that they were there, but we do not lose ourselves when they are gone. Finally, in chess, there are pawns. They often get in the way. They are used as sacrifice pieces. There are many of them, and they are hardly seen as significant. However, every once in a while, they make it through the hardest part of the battle. They're there in the end. Sometimes, they make it to the other side, and they become something much larger and more powerful than we expected. These insignificant, little, useless pawns can actually save the day in the end. In real life, we have our own versions of these pawns. Sometimes, even, we are the pawns in the lives of others. Before we even notice it, these people who we never thought would make a difference in the outcomes of our lives end up saving us. Some of my "pawns" turned into my beacons of hope. They saved me in the end. They stood strong throughout the battle. For example, Russell came into my life as a classmate in a class that I didn't even want to be in. In the end, though, he ended up saving me from the thinking that I deserved the bad treatment I was receiving. He made me feel beautiful. He became the most important part of my future. He changed the game. He made the fight worth it.
In 2009, I hope to see all of the pieces as being equal. I want see a glimpse of a queen in each pawn. I want to bring the rooks closer to me. I want the king to stop hiding behind those who seem more powerful. I want to be the knight in someone else's life. I want to be a better bishop, and go across the world and back for the person that I want to protect from harm the most. This year, the queen is going to shine. The hope will not be captured, because it is going to grow until it is almost ready to burst. I will only sacrifice what is necessary to survive. Instead of working to beat the other side, I'm going to work to make my side even stronger. This year, my side of the board is going to be victorious.
However, just in case I find myself losing, I'm going to remember that the best part of chess (and life) is that no matter what happens, I can always start over. I can always choose a new approach and focus on the areas in which I lacked the most strength. Most of all, though, I hope to learn more about who I am and how my choices affect my future. I hope to make my moves wisely, and never regret what I've done. I am willing to lose some things in order to gain others. And, above all things, I'm willing to start over until I find something that works. One day, I will, and I'll appreciate it, simply because I'll know that I earned it.
I'm okay with saying goodbye to 2008. It's been the best year of my life. My New Year's Resolution is to be able to make that exact same statement this time next year with the exact same look in my eyes.
Here's to 2009!
With love,
Haley
