what a fucking year

What a fucking year.

There wasn't a lot of room 2018 for hope or optimism or on some days enough energy to do anything besides get out of bed and go to work. But we made it. The calendar changed a digit, and people complain about how insignificant that is, but it's not. Every time you live to see that digit change it means you've lived another year, no matter how hard it gets. And sometimes that's something to be proud of.

I can't say with conviction that 2019 is going to be any better. But for me, at least, the new year has always been a time to regroup, to gather my strength, because whether you're ready or not, another year is coming. Sometimes you have to fight to stay afloat, and other times everything seems so perfect you wonder if you're dreaming.

I hope 2019 is the latter for you, but if not, just remember: none of us are alone out here, even if it feels like it. And remember that it's okay to be tired and it's okay to feel like it's hopeless. Just hang in there and we'll survive this together.