2024 Top Nine Flashback

The other night I remembered the whole Instagram “Top Nine” fad from years past—that collection of your nine most ”liked” Instagram photos from the year that could be compiled for you in a neat little square. I don’t know if it’s still a thing, but man, I used to love those. It would really bring back memories and make me smile (and probably cry, because TIME MOVES SO QUICKLY, waaaaahhhhh!) to look back on a whole year of my life, condensed into nine photos. It was fun!

When I remembered it this year though, my stomach flopped. I’m honestly kind of afraid to see my top nine most liked pictures from this year. I know that the center photo would be the one where I announced that Martin had quit his job, and I don’t particularly want to go back there—I don’t want to remember how shameful it felt, how shamed I was, the comments from people. Critical voices that traveled to me through the grapevine—voices that didn’t understand. I don’t want to go back to the darkness of the months before that when I would have done anything—anything—to get out of that situation. When my mind was consumed by the feeling that my husband had chosen a job over the happiness and well being of his family. When he was working amid a culture that told him it was a good fit for him because he had so many daughters and the job would keep him away from home— and that home was me and those daughters were ours. I hate recalling the months that Elka would follow me around the house whispering, “I’m worried. I’m worried” and there was nothing I could do to console her. The biggest part of the trial was really 2023, to be fair, when after two miscarriages—one alone, unable to get ahold of him, the other a spotlight on why we needed to get out…. what a nightmare… but it culminated in 2024, when we finally said together: “enough.”

2024 started out a year where I questioned a lot. It was a year where people didn’t understand, and made judgements based on that misunderstanding. It was a year when my worth as a wife and human felt disregarded by everyone —except Martin.

2024 turned around only because Martin listened to me. He saw the problem we had gotten ourselves into, saw the only way out, and did something very scary in order to save us. 2024 saw a complete unification of our little family, an incredible growth that has been the most amazing thing to experience. To see my children so happy and thriving after two years of not being able to find our footing, feeling our family unit unraveling, it is an incredible gift— beyond words, even. My heart bubbles with joy when I see the contrast between these two times. I cannot articulate my relief, joy, peace, gratitude.

I know that people saw me as selfish and weak. I know that very few people truly supported that decision and the abruptness of it. I know that people were offended and hurt by my explanations of what brought us to that decision. Sometimes I start believing those words, remembering the rough months of summer, before he came to his current job (same job, different place,) when only hope and prayer got us through, when we had no money but MUCH contentedness, and I remember my guilt and feelings of what a selfish person I am. I can easily start believing the words from those grapevine voices, the responses about our decision… “all he did was let his brother in blue down.”

Well, I’ve learned something very important through this time. There is a difference between resilience and submission. Resilience is an honorable trait—you can power through the junk that is handed to you, you are able to find joy in the wreckage, cling to the small mercies, and keep going, bravely. Submission, on the other hand, is often just enduring something that, at its root, is changeable. I said at the time: this was a choice, not a diagnosis. We didn’t have to stay in this job, it was just a job, and for some people, for some families, it’s a job that works and is wonderful for them. And I’m glad of that and I’m happy for them! I love seeing people happy with their situations and life choices! And I’m grateful that for those families their trait is honorable resilience, where I felt discouraged submission. I respect their resilience, and a big part of me wishes I could be more like them. For us, that particular situation was not wonderful. For me, it became unbearable. Martin might have let some people down, but he was standing up for his marriage and his family. He was saying “my family’s well-being is more important than anything.” What an honor to have been on the receiving end of that decision. I know that some people will always think of me as selfish, weak, immature, unable to handle something that stronger women were capable of handling. A letdown. A loser. A wimp. Well, that’s definitely all true, but I’m ok with it.

2024 is going to be behind us soon and I’m happy to just let it gather dust. I don’t need to keep revisiting it because what I have now—the result of 2024–is so good, SO, SO GOOD, that it deserves all of my focus. I don’t want to traipse back to the guilt-ridden days of 2024. I don’t want to relive the shame and fear and embarrassment. I want to live wholly with what grew from all that—an amazing family life with an amazing job that not only suits us, but keeps us all thriving. We went from totally broken to unbreakably united in 2024, and I cannot wait to continue along this path in 2025, carrying with us all the lessons we’ve learned, all the wounds we’ve healed, all the joy we have found.