How to make lemonade pt. 2

246 days.

Or 67.21% of the year. That’s how long it’s taken me to figure it out.

And here we are. New Year’s Eve 2020 and I’ve finally made it. The lemonade that is.

This year I’ve searched high and low looking for fulfilment. Looking for reasons to stay positive, power through and make the best of a bad situation. Looking for ways to steady the turbulence and start again.

The idea of wasted time really scares me. And making good use of the time that we all have, has never meant more than it has this year. We’ve all learnt that life is short, feelings are temporary, and endings can be as abrupt as fresh starts.

2020 has not been a waste. It’s not been a write off. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow, in a brand-new year, and pretend as if the last didn’t happen. There is no growth in ignorance. If anything, 2020 will be the year etched in my memory as the benchmark from which to compare all future years.

The benchmark for weirdness, for shit hitting the fan, for government incompetency, for shoddy journalism, for conspiracy theories, and even for my suntan (eight weeks of unemployment and a national lockdown during the hottest May on record will do that to you).

I pride myself on my positive outlook. On my ability to see situations from all angles and not get easily bogged down by negativity. But this year has truly tested that.

When I was laid off in March, the week Boris announced the first national lockdown, I cried for days. Maybe even a whole week. It didn’t feel fair and I couldn’t understand why it had happened to me. Not only did my job feel dangerously unstable, the lockdown had also forced me and my boyfriend apart, unable to see each other for weeks on end. I quickly felt like my world was crumbling down around me and I didn’t know how to pull myself together. Little did I know, it would get a lot worse before it got better.

A couple of weeks later, once lockdown was in full swing, I lost my job completely. Via email. Not even a courtesy phone call to cushion the blow. But… I didn’t cry for as long this time, instead I realised I was better than that. That I didn’t deserve to be treated this way and the situation didn’t deserve my tears. I sure as hell wasn’t going to mourn my swift departure from a dead-end job. That would be a waste of time.

This was an opportunity. A chance to better myself. To pick myself up and dust myself off. My family stood on the side-lines, cheering me on every step of the way with my sis