I look back on the past year and see a dark grey blur. It has been a whirlwind of paradoxical emotions which came at me hard, fast and merciless. In the attempt to dodge the rain and clouds, it has been difficult for me to see the hidden rays of sunlight. That doesn't mean I'm not appreciative of all the opportunities I've been granted in 2015 or of the great support system that life has given me (which I'm not sure I fully deserve). It does mean that opening up the sky single-handedly is proving to be more strenuous than I have the energy for. And it also means I'm not going to look back too much. As I fasten my pace slowly but surely towards the new year, I magnify that dark grey blur with a slight sting in my heart.

After all, you can only sharpen the image by focussing on it.

And then I push the shutter-button. Done. In a split-second.

I take a mental picture of the past year. I put it in the scrapbook I call my memory, after pictures of snow, sled-dogs, moving trucks and parties. I put it after pictures of me, smiling, unknowing of the clouds that were approaching.
I can't throw it away. The past year, like any other, has shaped, formed, moulded and forced me into the human being I am this very day. I don't precisely know who that human being is, or what she stands for. I do know what she is not and what she wants to accomplish.
I feel as if I'm the camera, in between the moment the button is pressed and the shutter closes. I'm doing something, but what, exactly?

I'm determined to close that shutter today. I know I can't promise myself no more heart ache, frustration or anxiety. But I do know that this determination to get better and feel better is ever growing inside of me, and I am not going let anyone change that, especially not myself.
I am determined to start a new chapter today. And I hope that looking back, I will be able to title it "A Vast Blur of Sunlight".

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