I’m one of those people who typically takes stock at the end of the year, looking back over my challenges and goals and seeing where I made progress—or where I stalled or even regressed. Usually I set intentions for the upcoming year, and try to greet the new year with some sort of hope, optimism or resolve.

Not so much this year.

In fact, I am deeply weary and somewhat deflated. And I don’t feel highly hopeful or enthusiastic either.

Luckily, I DO feel curious, which can work when I’m lacking other more positive emotions. As I prepare to say farewell to 2021, I feel myself more challenged and more changed than perhaps any other year in my memory. I am curious about who I have become, and what I have learned about myself on this long dark slog through 2021.

Much of what I have learned has been about myself in relation to people. I’m an introvert, and the story I have told myself is that I like more “alone time” than most, and that I tolerate people in relatively small doses. This year, I’ve learned the truth of it, through some surprising pandemic experiences:

-There is such a thing as too much alone time. As much as I love my own company, there is just so much of me I can happily take. I can entertain myself pretty well, but at some point even I suffer if I spend too much time alone.

-Small interactions matter. Case in point: I hadn’t been to my favorite Mexican restaurant for 18 months, but a few months ago, I felt safe enough to go back for an actual meal. Inside. When the guy brought chips to the table, I actually cried. I don’t even know his name, but he was a part of my Life Before whom I had really and truly missed. Ditto the cashier at the grocery store and the staff at the post office. I had no idea how critical these casual neighborhood interactions were to my feeling of being anchored in my community. What a blessing to be a “regular” somewhere.

-Like most everyone, my work situation was turned upside down by the pandemic. And like so many others, I began working on remote platforms gratefully–I do NOT miss long commutes. (In fact, one of my New Year’s resolutions for 2020 was “commute less.” Haha! As the saying goes, “Be careful what you wish for.”)

But what I DO miss is all of the information I can see and smell and hear and sense by being in a room with people physically. I miss the excitement of an idea catching fire, I miss the serious purposefulness of thinking a problem through together. I miss having my heart warmed by someone telling a great story. I miss feeling proud of my colleagues when they say or do something brilliant. I might even miss the tension of a conflict, and the relief when we get to a better place. I miss the contagiousness of feelings, even if that feeling is boredom, or exasperation. All this time I thought that people drained my introverted energy, but what’s really true is that most of the time, people GIVE me energy. They—YOU—give me life. And I am longing to be in your presence again, for work and for play.

I learned this year that people matter much more to me than I had known, for the big things AND the little things. I learned that I CAN be alone and frequently prefer it—but mainly because being alone is how I metabolize what I felt and learned when I was with people. I had no idea how much I would yearn for your energy and your company.

I opened this post saying I’m so deflated I have few hopes for the year ahead. But if I’m honest, I would say that I FERVENTLY hope to be with you in 2022. To think, solve, create, learn, take bio breaks, have coffee, laugh, and hug.

I get it, it won’t be the same. Not all of us are still here on earth, or here in the same locations or roles. If the stars align, we may see each other in familiar settings, working and playing, together again. And if that is not to be, you are alive in my memory and my heart, and I am deeply grateful to reunite with you in my imagination. Whatever I’ve lost, no one can take what we did and how we laughed and loved and created and grew together. That’s forever.

However we go forward from here, whether in the flesh or in our hearts and imaginations: Here’s to a happier, healthier 2022 for us all.