Welcome to 2022. I know. A day(s) late and many dollars short. Still, here we are, right? I tend to avoid intense social media scrolling in the first week of the year. It’s likely not what you think. I don’t make resolutions as a general rule and if I did, it wouldn’t include a social media break.
For starters, I don’t escape reality or time with other humans because of some obsession with social media. Also, I’m aware that 70% of it (I’m being generous) is bullshit. Furthermore, I give myself breaks when I feel it necessary.
So yeah, that’s not it. It’s the escalation of the bullshit the first week in January. It’s the heavy-handed proclamations and gratuitous [and fake] gratitude. That’s not it though. I mean, that’s not all of it. It’s other stuff too. Man, I loathe the word stuff, and yet, that feels most appropriate here. It’s the ‘look how far I/we’ve come this year’ and all the fucking memes about the shittiness of a year. It’s all of it. I guess you could call me a New Year’s grinch.
It just feels like a set up. It does. It feels like the clock strikes midnight and we are all supposed to magically figure out how to un-pumpkin ourselves. Like hey girl, you fucked up last year hard, but there’s good things in store for you…you just have to want it badly enough. Manifest it. Or, hey, I know you are taking one moment at a time, but here’s someone’s magical journey where everything went right so you can compare yourself and feel like human waste. Cool? Cool.
As a society, we place an expectation on the changing of a year. Things are supposed to get better. Or things can’t get worse. Or you will grow. Or you will morph into something you haven’t been but have always meant to be.
I told my parents tonight that I’m fascinated (every damn year) by the set of twins that make the news from being born in two separate years. There’s something about it that is deliciously messy. Like the twins were meant to be born together, on the 1st of the year, and one was like, fuck this shit. Too much pressure. Too little acknowledgment of uncertainty. I’m going to find my way out of this darkness right the fuck now. Good luck to you partner.
I know, that sounds twisted, but tis my truth. I know, I know. I disclaimed that expression and here I am, sprinkling it into our conversation again, callously and nearly, with abandon. I’m going to come up with something better but I haven’t yet. I need some time. I have important shit to do. It IS the first few days of a NEW YEAR. Haven’t you heard? Sorry. Just kidding. Couldn’t resist.
Anyway, it’s true. I’ve been trying on all the things that feel like ___ ______ (better?) in some hope of finding the one that feels just right. Not too big, not too small. Just perfect. Well, not perfect, but perfect for me.
If you know me and you’ve been around here a while, you know that I spent a long time burying ____ _____ really far into the earth. Deep down where it was absolutely invisible. So long as others were happy with something, I found my way to satisfaction. I never spoke up when I felt unhappy or frustrated or sad. Hell, I never even opened my mouth when I didn’t really understand something. It was a hard line on the right side of status quo. I held it like it was fucking going out of style.
Thus, admitting that the way in which people engage this first of the week irks the shit out of me is major progress so far as I’m concerned.
I am not judging the folks that post. I promise. I’m not. It just doesn’t feel good for me. I project all the feelings and all the thoughts and the truth is, I don’t know what the fuck the poster was really thinking of feeling. It’s not me judging though. I just recognize that much of the engagement right now sets up a paradigm that reinforces lying and pretending and competing and I am NOT here for that, at all.
Do I think that there are some folks who are truly living their best lives right now? I do. Is it evil for them to post about it? Definitely not. Do I have to read it and participate and wonder if they are part of that crew or the FOS side of the equation? No. I get to disengage. That’s right.
So, what am I trying to say? Well, if I’m being honest, this is a lead in for a subject that is infinitely more challenging to talk about, but first and foremost, I’m giving you permission to not vibe with the beginning of the year (or do).
Don’t set a resolution. Definitely don’t set multiple ones. Feel annoyed that you didn’t get to things that you wanted to this year and understand that there are no make-ups where that business is concerned. Don’t feel compelled to count your blessings or be grateful for all the things you do have. I mean yeah, get to that eventually, but don’t feel the need to rush yourself there. Take a beat. Wonder where the fuck the year went. Feel bummed that there was shit on your list that you didn’t get to. Feel salty that you weren’t able to be one of the ‘I don’t give a fuck crew’ who traveled or partied or lived their best lives in the midst of a pandemic.
Don’t make a list of the books you didn’t read, or the movies you didn’t see or the blankets you didn’t knit. Don’t lament the plans you didn’t follow through on or the phone calls you didn’t make. Don’t think about unsent emails and unshed pounds and all the times you could have been smiling but weren’t.
Be grumpy as fuck. Yup. You heard me. I’m giving you permission. Wear thermals and drink a hot toddy (or just a tea, if you please) and cry over beautifully made documentaries. Wear socks that make your feet sweat under the covers but it feels disconcerting to take them off. Buy an outfit you can’t wear anywhere, not now…maybe not ever. Wear a mask to sleep. Wear ear plugs too. Sleep in until 9 am and don’t talk about how you need to start getting up earlier. Leave your hair dirty one more day and resist the urge to apologize. Eat a bowl of cereal at 9:30 PM just because. Take a photo of a gray, moody, unimpressive sunset. Wear dirty sneakers that you can’t let go of.
Do all the things and don’t post about it. Don’t check and see what others are up to. Just live in that second. Live in your ratty hair, too-warm toes, meh sunset moment.
Happy 2022.
X
L.
thepathtoworthy.com 