New Year's Midnight

 

We hear a lot about "participation trophies." I don't know that I ever had many thoughts one way or another about them, but after 2023 got through chewing me up and shitting me out, I am beginning to see the merits of honoring people for showing up and simply enduring. Because by December 31, 2023, that was me--showing up, enduring, doing my best. (Much like 4th grade gym class, now that I think about it.) Last night, when I stood with my friends and counted down until the clock hit midnight, I cried. Partially from grief, but also, partially from relief that finally, 2023 was done.

To any curmudgeon who says, "whatever, January 1 is just another day, and there is no fresh start or re-set when we go from one year to the next, and you can't say that a specific year is cursed and the curse is lifted when the new year steps in," I say: I pity you. I choose fiercely naive positivity and hope that yes, things can re-set in the New Year, if only because those of us with resilience choose to re-set, and lean into hope.

Anyway: what made 2023 so awful? Well, several things, and funnily enough, some of the awful is tied to the good. There's ugly shit, too. And then, there are the takeaways. 

The Bad

-Starting in January of '23, I commenced the process of looking for, and purchasing, a home. Now, I've done this once before, with my was-band, the artist formerly known as Mr. Melissa, and I had enough memories of the last time to know that it was, and remains, a hellscape so unspeakably stressful and awful that Dante couldn't even bring himself to include it one of his nine circles. This time was no different, and the process, along with the move and the getting-settled part, and then submitting to the fact that I had committed to a money-pit, dominated my life literally 365 days of the year. 

-A lot of people died. Parents of friends, friends' pets, colleagues' relatives, an immediate member of my own family. More on that later. 

-Shortly after I moved into my money-pit, otherwise known as Cozy Grove, I injured my shoulder. 8 months later, I am about 98.5% healed, but it slowed me down, and it fucking scared me. Infirmity will curb my independence, and I hate the thought of that. 

-Insane shit happened at work. Not because of my bosses or colleagues or direct reports, but because of the current culture wars, which are targeting your friendly underpaid neighborhood librarians. I won't speak much about it here, but I'll just say: if you care about democracy, and access to information, and freedom of speech, and parents' right to choose for their own child what they should read, pay attention to what's going on in your local library. 

The Good: 

-I had the privilege of buying a home. And I had family and friends who turned up, time and again, to fill my home with their support, both practical and moral. 

-The people I work with are magical, funny, smart, compassionate, amazing people, and they have helped me build up my confidence and have helped me to expand in creativity and resourcefulness. 

-On a gross, humid, hot day at the end of June, I saw Ms Taylor Swift perform her Eras concert in Cincinnati. It was an intense experience (I wasn't one of the people who blacked out, thank goodness) and I cannot remember another time in my life when I have been surrounded with so much joy, love, and excitement. 

-After years of deliberation, I finally decided to listen to the encouragement of one of my oldest friends, and I became a book reviewer for Booklist. The pay is negligible when you break down the hours you spend reading and writing, but hey, if I am gonna read, I may as well make a little money doing it! And it's helping me to hone my writing skills, and to read more mindfully. 

-I forgave someone who I have held a grudge against for the last two years. I don't know if they know, or care. It doesn't matter--forgiving them released me. 

-There were countless moments where I cuddled my purring cats, laughed at an off-colour joke someone made, had tipsy rambling conversations with friends, poured my heart out in an email, heard a song that moved me, watched the clouds roll across the sky, relished a bowl of popcorn, listened to the cherished sound of my sisters' voices, took pride in yet another home project completed, breathed a sigh of relief. These moments--not the big thrills--are probably the best parts of 2023. Except for...

-In May of 2023, after 16.5 years of non-contact, my father reached out to me, and he and I reconciled. We had deep, rich, long phone conversations over many summer nights, and he and I were our best selves for and with each other. And I had a living parent again! Which me leads me to...

The Ugly: 

-In July of 2023, my father suddenly passed away. 

The Takeaways (at least, what I think works for me) :

Endure. Laugh. Adapt. Find the silver lining. Accept help. Ask for help. Pick up the phone when your loved ones call. Get your will together. Forgive, if you can. Call the plumber as soon as you know there's a leak. Start wearing a coat, goddammit. Cook delicious meals. Try. Write a list of things to look forward to. Be honest about where you're at, mentally and emotionally. Be humble. Apologize. Pay attention. Pause to listen for the thunder, and the wind, and the rain. (I almost was going to say, "Wear sunscreen. If you know, you know.") Love, as much as you can give--when you give away love, it never diminishes, only multiplies. Remember--no one is grooming your kid, and definitely not the overworked librarian who just wants all people to have the information they need. Appreciate each day where your body works as it should. When you tell your family "I love you," know that it might be the last time you can tell them. 

 Stop wasting time. We have less of it, every minute that passes. 

"Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you."