Updated: Oct 19, 2021
New Years Eve.
It’s just a day, right? Another date in the calendar, just a little more significant than any other because it marks the final day of one year and the start of a new one.
It’s the time when we make promises that we won’t be so flawed, that we’ll do and be more or less of this and that. A day when we’re meant to be celebrating, celebrating our lives, the end of a great year, or just surviving it, ready to start a new year filled with excitement and motivation. The pressure to be “having fun” can be immense.
Yet, at the time of writing this, it’s 8.25pm and I’m tucked up in bed, eating chocolate.
I was really upset an hour ago. I had a sudden panic of, “Is this it?”, “Will nothing change?” in response to something that had happened and it felt like the black dog had bounded in, knocking me over, all of his four paws on my chest, and his abundant slobbering came out of my eyes. I began to worry that this was how my year was going to end; that, instead of celebrating, I was going to be struggling. I came up to bed and cried. Then I gave myself a talking to. Sometimes, the negativity burrows into my core so quickly, that a talking to doesn’t help but, fortunately, today it did.
I told myself that my feelings were justified and I was allowed to feel them. I told myself that, though I was disappointed I wasn’t going out, instead of just sitting and watching tv, I could do something I have been meaning to do for ages, so I picked up my notebook, my reading book, and my puzzle book (that I bought about three years ago and have never used), and brought them to bed with me. I told myself that, though I hadn’t planned on spending the evening alone, I was getting to spend the time with someone I have worked hard at getting to like, love, over this last few years: me. And I told myself how lucky I am; lucky that I have a partner who loves me and who I love, even though we piss each other off sometimes; that I have my beautiful three furry girls; that I have a warm bed to retreat to in a warm house, where I can eat tasty treats; that I have a choice of how to spend my time; that, although we don’t have much money, getting by on one wage, we are wealthy in comparison to many; that, despite my physical and mental health issues, I mostly live a life of interest, vibrancy and fun; that I have faced fears, lived with hope, and live a life very different to the one I imagined, and thought I deserved, in my very unhappy early years.
Today, my talking to worked (sometimes, perspective helps) and I’ve actually had a pleasant evening, reading, writing, chatting to friends, doing puzzles, and eating chocolates.
So, I may not be awake when the bells chime twelve, but I am starting the year as I mean to go on: listening to myself, trusting my feelings, and being honest and true. Happy New Year.