When I’m trying to land on a word of the year I usually have a list of 5-7 that are all in the same vein. This year was different. My list was HUGE. And VARIED. And the word that punched through the paper wasn’t even one I’d considered. It just landed gracefully, right on the 50 yard line.

Weird, right? Weird word.

But I KNEW. That’s it. That’s my 2022.

Forgive: stop feeling angry or resentful toward someone for (an offense, flaw, or mistake)

It’s not about anything in particular. It’s not like I’m one of those Amish villagers who needs to forgive a murderer for shooting and killing half of my family. I don’t have estranged family members with whom I need to reconcile. Ryan hasn’t cheated on me and honestly I probably wouldn’t forgive him if he did, no matter what my word of the year was.

It’s not about anyone in particular. It’s the general vibe I want. It’s the type of person I want to become. The type of person who can let things go. Move on. See the best. Choose hope.

Forgiving idiots on the internet in the same scroll they bug me.

Forgiving drivers who cut me off before my temperature can rise a single degree.

Forgiving any of my people for the mild annoyances, mistakes, and even personal preferences that I’ve let curdle things in the past.

Forgiving myself for not being perfect.

Forgiving my church and its leadership for what it is and what it isn’t.

In 2022, I’m trying to hold everything a little more loosely, as I’ve discovered that holding everything so tightly makes me tired, brittle, and primed for disappointment. Instead, I’m going to be jello. I’m going to be soft and bouncy. More hopeful. More resilient. More flexible.

I always thought forgiveness wasn’t something I needed or even could do, because bad things didn’t happen to me and I was perfect. Typical Danica-brand hubris. It’s made me cracked porcelain, far too breakable and not as flawless as I’d hoped.

This year I’m not porcelain. I’m a cozy Lovesac, molding to the moment, wrapping and cushioning and accommodating for myself and others. It’s so much more than just resilience, though—it’s choosing love and hope. It’s choosing to rise above things, and to lift others there too.

So if you’ve been waiting for the right time to cross me, I guess this is it.