A New Year, Anew
December has rolled around. The year is ending and it feels as though it was just January.
Just the other day, I swear, I was screaming “Happy New Year” with all my loved ones. I feel as though I just turned 25 and was having the time of my life in Daytona Beach, FL. I was just dancing at a dive bar with the people I love most, all sporting shirts with my face on them.
It was just January, yet it’s about to be January once again.
That’s the thing, we do the same thing every year. We tell ourselves that the year flew, that time went by so fast.
But the truth is that time didn’t go by fast. It went by one day at a time, just as it does every year. Not any faster or slower.
I told myself I wanted to write before the end of the year. A recap of sorts, reflecting on the year I’ve had. Toward the beginning of this year, I wrote about my quarter-life crisis. It makes sense to wrap around and see how I feel as I near the end of my 25th year.
So, I sat down in front of my computer to start writing, and I came up empty. I turned to my notebook – good old-fashioned pen and paper. I hoped that by changing my methods, it would inspire something. Still nothing; I had nothing to say about my 2024.
That is, I didn’t know what I wanted to say about my 2024. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to say it was terrible, or that it was wonderful. I could say it was a little bit of both, which is the truth, but less exciting to write about.
That’s just how life is: a series of ups and downs and good moments and bad ones.
My 25th year – my quarter-life crisis – was great. And also terrible. And then great again.
That feels like everything I do, everything I write about. I talk about the hard stuff and then I try to be optimistic at the end, put a nice pretty bow on everything to try to keep a positive outlook on life. Sometimes, turning a negative into a positive is not that easy. Sometimes it feels inauthentic, like I’m just trying to prove something to everyone around me. It’s my way of saying, “Yeah, I’m struggling but I can still be super cool and chill and everything’s all good! No worries!” That’s not to say that none of that is inauthentic, because I am all good. But it’s inauthentic to say that that’s how I feel all the time, or that that’s even how I feel when I’m writing about it.
I want, for once, to write authentically. To say, “I feel like sh*t. End of sentence.” I don’t do that though, because I don’t want people to worry about me, and I don’t want people to think I’m weak. Why would I want to make myself that vulnerable online, to allow people to think I’m weak? Or not happy? That’s what the internet is for, isn’t it? To tell people you’re happy, not to tell them when you’re struggling.
But I did struggle a lot this year. While there were so many wonderful moments, there were some really hard ones, too. For reasons I can’t explain, those hard moments are the ones that are sticking with me most right now. Ask me again tomorrow, maybe I’ll have the better ones front of mind.
I spent countless nights crying. My anxiety attacks came back. They were scarse, nothing serious, but I feel like I had failed in controlling my anxiety.
I disappointed myself many times. I challenged myself to read 30 books this year. I only read 11. I told myself I wanted to submit my writing to a literary magazine and get published. I chickened out after I convinced myself nothing I had written was good enough. I told myself that I was moving to New York in the summer. Then I couldn’t pull it off and didn’t move to New York until four months after that, after much had changed.
These may sound silly, but the fear of disappointing myself and others becomes crippling.
As much as I disappointed myself this year, I still am proud of myself. I moved to New York. Despite what anyone else thinks, it was a big feat, one that I’m proud of myself for. And I’m allowed to be. I’m allowed to be proud, even if I feel like I failed in some ways.
But once again, here I am wrapping things up in a pretty bow. Because I can’t help it. My 25th year was great. Alongside all the really harsh moments were really fantastic ones.
I did a lot of cool sh*t: traveled with my friends, went on vacation with my family, met a lot of amazing people, saw Broadway shows. None of this is unusual for me, but it’s all stuff I love. Hence, a lot of great memories.
I quit my job, which scared the living sh*t out of me, but I did it anyway. I moved to a different state, which scared the living sh*t out of me but I did it anyway. I ran a 5k, which scared the living sh*t out of me but I did it anyway.
Like my dad says, “Feel the fear and do it anyway.”
As always, the people in my life got me through the year. I could write pages and pages and pages about the people in my life.
I grew distant from some friends and lost friendships altogether. I also have met and spent time with some truly wonderful people who I feel lucky to have in my life. Friends have fluctuated, grown closer or further apart. I noticed that I started the year with different people than I am ending it with. Sometimes, that’s just how it goes.
Of course, I am the kind of person to have New Year’s resolutions. This year, my resolution is to give myself permission to enjoy things and to get excited about things. I’ve never subscribed to the idea of “New Year, New Me.” Of course I want to continue to grow, but I will do so while staying true to myself and who I am. That sounds cheesy, but who I am is important to me.
Because I had such a great year, I secretly worry what next year will bring. That the reverse is possible. I know I can’t think that way, and I know that part of allowing myself to enjoy things and be excited about things is allowing myself to be excited for this next year.
It’s about to be January. I’ll scream “Happy New Year” once again. A few days after, I’ll turn 26. It’s a new year and a new adventure. I know my 2025 will be beautiful, because I’m determined to make it beautiful. I’m so f*cking terrified. I’m so f*cking excited.
