2021 — My Year of Languishing, Endings & New Paths

What seemed to be at first the year of Understanding Boundaries and Languishing revealed itself — after quickly revisiting it in my head — as one for growing pains. And if there’s one thing that I take with me is that even when I’m thinking I’m standing still, paralyzed by fear, I’m still growing and evolving — the speed might be different than what I’m accustomed to but one cannot stop the world to gain a respite because it will keep turning and not even a pandemic will stop that.

Sitting down to write this, the first thought that I had was “It doesn’t seem like I did much this year.” Time is relative, I feel like I don’t know when it passed but it’s been a taxing year, in the most subtle of ways.

I’ll start with the gratitude journal, but this year I want to also try something different, inspired by Ines, so scroll down if you want to skip the warm lines and fast forward to the raw & painful stuff.

2021 started with an overdue achievement: I passed the Marketing Cloud Email Specialist certification. I started learning SCRUM (yet another thing on the bucket list). I’ve completed a Diploma in Psychology (and through this process, I felt like I was doing something for the 15-year-old Raluca).

I’m grateful for all the take-at-home meal kits, the tasty food and the feeling of accomplishment given by supporting local businesses. All the pies from No Messin’ (get on their newsletter list), the coffee places, the alfresco brunches and picnics. All the homecooked meals, the old and new recipes tried (keto can be quite fun).

All the neighbourhood walks with my loved one or with a good podcast in my ears. All the runs, cycling, yoga, hikes, camping, water sports and sea swims. And all the driving. And the Salsa lessons. I’m grateful that they brought me to the present, connected me to myself and to others.

The one month of travelling after 18 months of a forced break gave me the most epic experience I’ve had to date (check out this video if you don’t believe me — the Spryker lot is truly special). It left me speechless and made me pinch myself ever so often: ✔️sound human beings you connect with, ✔️ private island teambuilding, ✔️live music running through my veins, ✔️ yoga in the forest. Oh, and did I mention the PRIVATE ISLAND? I don’t know what I did to deserve this (and hope I did) and I’m beyond grateful for this experience. And if that wasn’t enough, it triggered a trip to Romania to see my parents & loved ones.

So what did I let go of or what endings and am I talking about?

1️⃣ I worked through tieing loose ends at Salesforce and made the decision to quit (it was a long emotional rollercoaster and Lorna, if you’re reading this, thank you!). I secured another job that (still) has all I had ever wanted — transparent & no BS environment, flat hierarchy and no politics, great industry, marketing profile with sprinkles of analytics & operations, to challenge me and nurture my growth. Sounds amazing, right? Well, the other side of the coin came with the highest dose of Impostor Syndrome I’ve experienced. I’m the self-starter, the chaos organizer, the “give me a puzzle to solve or I’ll get bored” but lately, I’ve been more the “is this ok? what do you think?” gal (which is still something we lone wolfs need to learn, but too much of anything can make you queasy). So it’s partly a pat on the back for me and partly thanks to my Spryker support system with constant feedback that nurtured my commitment, even if 4/5 days I feel like a lazy impostor I’m grateful for finding this environment. And looking forward to the growing pains & opportunities (with more calm and less hyper-draining excitement) that it sends my way.

2️⃣ I let go of “I’m fine” and constant comparative suffering and I started consistently going to therapy. Again. I accepted that I’m spiralling alone and that it’s ok to ask for help. Again. Even if the entire world is suffering — the hope is kept alive by helping each other. Furthermore, asking a “new” person for help doesn’t mean that your support system is failing you, but that your needs developed. It’s ok to feel like you’re untangling wires you already organised. Tangles happen when you’re not looking, they creep up on you. (Thank you, Roxana, for walking alongside me).

3️⃣ I cried a lot — out of fear, tiredness, and suppressed longing. And burn out — it’s my second one, and the “You Should Know Better By Now” refrain keeps ringing in my ears. I’m relying on self-care to keep me going. My battery is drained and replenishing it is only an investment for the immediate future only. Bittersweetly, I’m accepting being my no.1 priority with less and less shame. Sad that it has had to come to this stage for me to wake up. Aware that I’m barely scraping the surface and grateful that I am held.

4️⃣ I’ve grieved — the loss of the life that once existed and will not come back, the unexpected loss of people that passed away. And the distance between friends (and past friends). It’s all making room for something else, even if that something is not seen or understood yet. That doesn’t mean it hurts less.

5️⃣ I’ve cut my hair short and donated it, letting go of the idea that “I’m too fat for short hair”. Before the big chop, I felt ready for the change (the only time I’ve felt like I’m doing the right thing this year, the only change that came without hesitation, to remind me that’s still possible). After it, I felt free. And still me.

6️⃣ I’ve chaotically pulled myself out of the frozen state. I’ve had a lot of help, fought with myself, whether it was an internal dialogue or discussions with the mirrors I saw in my close ones. I was reluctant to include this one because it’s still unfolding — I’m in the process of moving from the place I’ve considered home for 3 years, this time all on my own; I’ve signed up for the first all-women expedition to Mount Kilimanjaro in 2022; I’ve had to accept that people move on but stay close. And while I have fear with me in the car and she drove for quite a bit, I’ve taken the wheel now.

7️⃣ I’ve been vulnerable and found strength in sharing the unpleasant and personal memories: with the right environment and facilitator (🙏🏻 Ines, 🙏🏻 Jenny), group therapy is magic. In the words of Alain de Botton — “We’re all messed up and that’s ok”.

For the past few years, I’ve chosen a word to set the theme for every year. It was meant to replace resolutions and enhance my observant mind. I’ve felt lost with all the change and uncertainty lately, so I’m not sure yet what my word for 2022 will be. And I’m writing this because it might help you in your uneasy state. Whether it’s pain, fear or uncertainty, knowing that someone else understands a little piece of your heart somehow eases the burden. Even for just one second.

I’d like to leave you with this paradox: alone and together are on a spectrum and we’re balancing between the 2 ends, ever-changing, ever-growing.