Tonight, the world celebrates the turning of the calendar. For me, New Year’s Eve is less about looking forward with grand plans and more about a sober, necessary ritual: saying goodbye to the man I was and fully embracing the life I must now live.
This year forced a radical change: the traveler was grounded; the backpack was exchanged for a hospital bed; the freedom of motion was replaced by the vigilance of $\text{LVSD}$ (EF 20%) and $\text{NYHA}$ Stage IV.
A Traveler’s Final Goodbye
I allow myself a moment tonight to mourn the life I lost. The spontaneous road trips, the joy of hoisting my own luggage, the ability to simply step outside and walk down the street—these are all gone. It is a profound loss of identity, and it deserves to be honored.
I say goodbye to the version of Raymond who measured his worth in destinations visited.
I say goodbye to the illusion of boundless time and unlimited energy.
But this mourning is productive. It clears the emotional slate for the next phase. You can’t build a strong future if you’re constantly looking back at a past that can never return.
The Resolution of Acceptance
My resolution for 2026 is a single word: Acceptance.
Acceptance is not defeat. It is the ultimate act of resilience. It means understanding the limits of my 20% heart function and learning to live powerfully within them.
Accepting the Anchor: I am housebound. My care is managed by the Community Care Team. This is my reality, and fighting against it only costs me precious energy. Acceptance allows me to invest that energy into stability and finding internal peace.
Accepting the Small Miracles: When you stop looking for mountains to climb, you start seeing the miracles in the dust. The small miracle of a successful pill regimen, a day without pain, or the consistent kindness of a carer—these are the real landmarks of a life well-lived.
Accepting Help: I am permanently reliant on others. This requires constant humility, but I accept that my worth is not tied to my independence, but to my humanity and my connection to others.
Tonight, as the clock nears midnight, I will not be thinking about where I could be. I will be deeply grateful for where I am: safe, stable, surrounded by care, and connected to you, my digital community.
Happy New Year. May your journey, whatever its scale, be filled with peace and strength.
What is the one thing you are most ready to let go of from the past year (a fear, a bad habit, an old expectation) as you enter the new year?
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