Rewind to January 2020. It was a Sunday afternoon, and of all the things there are to do on the weekend, I found myself walking up the steps of a woman’s house, knocking on her front door, and sitting down at her kitchen table with my hands in hers, silently listening to every word that came out of her mouth.

I made an appointment to see a psychic. I had never been to one before, so it was all new to me. I’m not going to get into too much detail about the reading because I really didn’t resonate with much of anything she said. That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in readings, it just means I didn’t find a ton of value in mine.

There is one thing she said that stuck with me, though. I felt even more uneasy walking out of her house than I had walking in because she said these words to me, and they played on repeat in my head for all of this year:

“This is going to be the hardest year of your life thus far.”

Immediately, I thought of death. I am an incredibly lucky person as I’ve never lost anyone close to me. All of my grandparents are still alive, and I am thankful to say my friends and family are relatively healthy and well. As blessed as I am to have everyone I love still here with me, there will come a day when that changes. That scares me beyond belief because I haven’t been slightly prepared for it. So, when the psychic uttered those words to me, I thought, “this will be the year I lose someone I love,” and my whole body chilled.

Fast forward to today, December 2020. I have a really hard time wrapping my head around the statement the psychic made. 2020 was unexpected in every sense of the word, but I found myself waiting and waiting for it to be the hardest year of my life. And to be honest, I didn’t need the psychic’s haunting words to be waiting for it to be my hardest year. 2020 was dishing out hardships regardless of the psychic’s predictions.

The truth of the matter is, 2020 was not the hardest year of my personal life. It wasn’t even close. It was a transformative, eye-opening, and unmatched year, but I have this thing called privilege— an angel monster I owe my life to— so I was protected throughout the year.

Instead, I found myself mentally in places I had never been before. I cannot count how many times I went to bed wondering how I could exist in a world where one bad thing after another happened and not be directly affected by any of it. I went to bed listening to the sounds of gunshots and protests on TV and sirens in real life with tears down my face. I deleted social media, refrained from listening to the news, and silenced my group chats for weeks at a time because I was experiencing the highest amount of anxiety I had in years. I would go on walks around Boston and spend hours thinking about why I was afforded this privilege. Why did I deserve it? Why couldn’t it be universal? How in the world could I continue on knowing there are people fighting for their literal lives around the globe while I walk freely, healthily, and safely?

My heart broke into a million pieces this year, and I was at a loss for how to glue it back together when it felt like that was asking sand to recongeal. I still battle with this thought every day. I will never, for as long as I live, take my privilege for granted, and I pray to God there’s never a day I act like I do.

From the wildfires in Australia and the west coast to Covid-19, BLM, US election, death of Kobe Bryant, Beirut explosion, Armenia-Azerbaijan crisis, and all the personal battles I witnessed in my friends and families’ lives, this year was traumatic to say the least. You did not have to be directly involved with any of it to feel the devastating effects of its events. I highly empathized with the people who have dealt with this year’s impacts on a level I didn’t know was humanly possible but am forever grateful for.

I learned there’s a thin line of separation between other people’s emotions and my own. I discovered that’s an incredibly taxing trait to have, but I also learned that’s the only kind of life I want to live. I get this one experience in this one body, but if I just walk through life not absorbing the beauty and pain of those around me, I’d never embody the fullness of humanity.

There were amazing parts of 2020 too that hid in the shadows of its ugliness. I cannot simply glance over the hardships and only speak of its inspirational moments— that would feel like blinding positivity to me. With all that said, though, every situation has a silver lining. I am just here to say that in difficult times, we have the power to find hope and move forward.

For me, I found peace as often as I could in between the chaos, when my brain remembered that I am only as useful as I am healthy— mentally and physically. I am not a good daughter, sister, friend, coworker, roommate, etc. if I am not finding peace for myself.

The only reason I prioritized peace this year was because I had lost it when the world turned dark. I felt unconnected as I poured every emotion I could muster up into everyone else and everything else that by the end of the day, I would settle into bed with what felt like a lifeless body and mind.

I had to start finding peace in the nooks and crannies of cracked life, and that’s the one reason I think it’s stayed this long. I had nothing left to do but find settlement when it was masked. I had to realize that peace was in my morning tea, newly washed sheets, a funny joke, fresh flowers, and hot showers. It was clearly in my family’s health, my stable job, the roof over my head, my skin color, the food I never ran out of, and much, much more. That was painstakingly obvious to me, the ones that should have brought peace but instead brought a guilty pain. It was only when I looked into the mundane routines of life that I realized I had to have a deeper rooted gratitude.

That is why I have had a transformative year— amidst the agony of 2020, I reminded myself that this life is precious. If I am still alive, if I’m afforded privilege, if 2020 was not the worst year of life for me thus far, then who in the world am I to live aimlessly? It was a year of purpose for me.

For those who have been directly effected by this year’s events, I pray for your peace. I don’t know if I myself have many suitable words to summarize the collective mourning the human race has endured this year, but honestly, the fact that I don’t is for the best.

I wish you strength, grace, and peace in 2021.