Last year around this time, I started reflecting on what Newfoundland had taught me in my first year living here. As January 1st approaches, I find myself asking what has changed in my second year. It's natural, I suppose, to wonder about such things. Pretty soon, my Facebook feed will be filled with people who are talking about how 2016 treated them.

If you had told me that I would last two years on this rugged island, I probably would have been skeptical. Those first few months here almost broke me. The wind and fog drove me crazy that first summer. I was so homesick I didn't think I would ever get over it. But there's one thing that has become very clear to me-- I've fallen completely and totally in love with Newfoundland. It feels like a betrayal to say that because I will always be proud I'm from Pictou County. Just this morning I was thinking about how much I miss it. However, Newfoundland has made me grow, it's made me fight, and it's given me a backbone.

This morning I woke up and stared out at the icy ocean. Even though I was in a warm house, I could feel the cold air just from looking out the window. The night before, I'd stood in the dark with a friend and stared as the waves thundered against the rocks. I didn't explain it to my friend, but I was overcome with emotion. This land has made me strong.

And it's funny that I say that. Because right now I am anything but strong. In fact, it's probably the weakest and most fragile I've ever been. 

But this land, it's taken care of me.

It's where I ran when I lost Jean. My beautiful, sharp witted, brilliant, and sometimes angry friend. I stood on the flat rock just past her house and thought I would die from missing her so much. But in those moments, the ocean would calm me.

It's where I ran when I didn't know how to cope with the crippling fogginess that often happens to my brain. My feet would pound the ground as I ran around Quidi Vidi Lake, and I would be so grateful for the saltwater air that filled my lungs as I ran.

It's where I turned when I needed to feel like I had to get out of the city. I'd walk down the East Coast trail and wonder how so much beauty could fill one place.

It's where I ran when I didn't want to leave the house. I'd dart up the stairs and stare out the kitchen window at the harbour that was a temporary home for cruise ships, and the heartbreaking place where people learned they lost their friends at sea. 

And I love it. It's wild, free, and contains a secret sort of beauty I think some people don't take the time to appreciate.

If I were to be honest, the people aren't as friendly here--but it's made me tougher. I've learned to keep my guard up and let it bounce off when I'm hurt. But at the same time, they've made me realize the importance of hospitality and how to be willing to help anyone out. I've had complete strangers offer to help me because of something they've seen on social media. I'm currently living in a neighborhood that has completely taken me under their wing. For the first time in my life, I feel like I belong somewhere.

2016 has been a complete idiot. Too many were greeted by Death, Donald Trump won the election, and so many personal battles have happened, I tend to block them out.

When 2017 comes knocking, I'll be ready. I'm half expecting to shout "Good Riddance!" and slam the door on such a gut wrenching year.

But somehow I survived it.

And Newfoundland? I give a lot of the credit to you.