I started 2019 in a hotel room in El Paso with my cousins and my sobris, listening to “Happy Talk” by Nancy Wilson on repeat. It’s arguably the cheesiest song in existence, but my heart swells every time she sings “You’ve got to have a dream/If you don’t have a dream/How’re you gonna have a dream come truuuuue?”

I signed up for Spotify Premium just so I could listen to “Old Town Road” on demand and without interruption –– the original, not the Billy Ray Cyrus remix. The remix, I am sad to say, is not good. (I am only sad to say it because it seems to be the one that will be remembered in posterity, and I will have to dance at it at weddings while my interior monologue grumbles about how the original is so much better.)

I smiled so big every time I heard “Juice” by Lizzo, especially when she sings “If I’m shining, everybody gonna shine.” (That is exactly the world I want to live in, Lizzo! Thank you for articulating it!)

I went through my phone and picked out my happiest pictures from the year so I can look at them forever. I could tell a story about each of them, but mostly the story is “I was happy, and I took a picture.” Except for the first picture. The story about the first picture is that I asked my friends to come to my house for an Elton John party, and we all sang “Bennie and the Jets,” along with every other song in Sir Elton’s catalog. Devin and I made a buffet of snacks that spanned the entire hallway. Party of my dreams.

I started the year by watching a TV show that made something click for me. I decided I wanted to be a confident woman like the one I saw on my screen. Realizing how few examples I regularly see of confident women in pop culture, I decided to seek them out. I listened to Solange. I searched for feminist podcasts and listened to every episode of Unf*ck Your Brain and Another Round. I watched the first season of Marvelous Mrs. Maisel again. I spent a lot of time thinking about my grandmother in her beige slacks and soft blouses.

I thought about what truly makes me happy and prioritized those things. I watched less TV. I stopped curating and documenting my life as much as I used to.

I helped throw my mom the surprise party of her dreams!

I realized that there are only 24 hours in a day and that I can’t do it all and that it’s OK (it’s really OK!). I learned to say “I’m sorry. I can’t” and “I need help” and “I’d love to, but I really need to sleep tonight.” I left lots of texts and emails unanswered so that I could be with the people around me. I learned to make (short) realistic to-do lists and check everything off instead of making (impossibly long) optimistic to-do lists and feeling defeated. I took care of myself when I got sick. I went to therapy. I went to church.

I wrote a thank-you note to my third-grade teacher. I had soft pink hair and an easy birthday party. I hung my laundry to dry in the sun, and when my neighbors thought it was a yard sale, I gave some of my clothes away. I cooked in a crockpot and exercised to feel good. I felt good. I went to bed early and let the sun wake me up instead of an alarm. I saw my family as much as I could.


My mom told me, “It’s not your job to fix the world,” and I realized she’s right. Instead of feeling overwhelmed, I took comfort in how small I am and how limited my sphere of influence is. I only have so much energy, so much power, so much time. I tried to use those resources carefully to help build the world I want. I took courage in knowing that we’re building it together. I tried to learn from my sobrin@s.




Instead of comparing myself to people who have more and feeling inferior, I thought about how lucky I am. I dreamed about a world where everyone has what I have: a loving community, a sense of purpose, a warm home, food in the kitchen, and comfortable shoes. I tried to act in line with my values. I forgave myself when I messed up.

If I counted up the bad things that happened this year, the problems I faced that I couldn’t, and may never, solve, I could say it was a hard year. Or I could count all the ways I learned to navigate problems and give thanks for my resourcefulness and my people. I have a feeling that years from now I’ll remember my friends showing up on my doorstep with dinner every time I remember the problems. Life is like that. Good things happen even in hard times. And if we have friends willing to make us food and bring it over on a cold, rainy night, our problems seem smaller than they did before dinner.

I ended the year with wind in my hair and nopales in my teeth, and for the first time in my life, when it was time to eat 12 grapes, I knew exactly what to wish for.