Fireworks of My Soul: Letting the New Year Arrive Gently
- Jillian Stidd
- Jan 1
- 3 min read
A year ago, I stood in this same neighborhood, under this same sky, watching these same fireworks tear the night open. A new Year memory.
They were magical — and I couldn’t celebrate them.
I had just arrived from the homestead.
I had left behind animals I loved — goats, chickens, a rhythm of quiet and care I had worked hard to build. I was grieving a life that had mattered to me, a life I hadn’t been ready to release.
And I was angry.
There was a deep, burning rage inside me then — not the loud kind, but the kind that lives under the ribs. The fireworks didn’t soften it. They fed it. Every explosion felt like proof that I didn’t belong here.
I remember saying, “I hate this place.”
But the truth is, I didn’t hate this place.
I hated the loss.
I hated the rupture.
I hated that my life had been rearranged without my consent.
I was in grief — and grief doesn’t always recognize beauty when it arrives.
A year later, I stood here again.
Same neighborhood.
Same sky.
Same unapologetic celebration spilling from garages and streets.
But I was different.
After SoulSteading.
After moving through many, many cities and towns.
After learning how to walk without needing certainty, or permanence, or even answers.
This time, something unexpected happened.
Instead of tightening, my body softened.
Instead of resisting, I smiled.
Instead of feeling exiled, I felt warmed.
This place — oddly, gently — felt like home.
Not because it changed.
Because I did.
I don’t speak the language here, but I hear the music.
I don’t stand inside the parties, but I feel the rhythm.
And somehow, that’s enough.
Maybe it’s time to learn Spanish.
Or maybe it’s just time to admit that belonging doesn’t always arrive the way we expect.
Sometimes it waits patiently —until we’re ready to meet it without armor.
Tonight, the fireworks didn’t ignite grief.
They marked a return.
Life didn’t explode back into me.
It warmed me quietly.
And that was everything.
Potent Powerful Question:
What in me is ready to arrive—without being pushed?
XOXO Jillian
Founder, My Ingredient List™
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