Hey, New Year’s Day. Listen Up.
Let the melancholy madness begin.
It happens every stinking year. The end of year blues. The brain swirl review that attempts to make peace with what occurred over the previous 365 arbitrary days. The desperate attempt by your internal pundit to make sense of how you’ve spent your time.
As the first day of the first month of the Gregorian calendar waves its hands, seeking attention, all eyes are on it. Okay January 1st — we have you got? What do you have to offer us fallen souls in need of guidance and goodwill? Oh — you have diet advice, do ya? And healthy living tips by the dozens. You want us to drivel our hopes and dreams onto a flimsy piece of paper so we can remember them. So we can reference them when our ambition is waning by Day 7.
I’ve got your number though New Year’s Day. I know your tricks. I’ve been lulled into melancholy more times than I care to admit at the mere mention of you. Because here’s the truth — YOU, Ms. New Year’s Day, are a phantom. You will be gone in 24. And even sooner if I spend most of the day in bed. You can’t make me feel bad about myself unless I allow you. And one of my resolutions is to not let the negativity in. I’m told I should release those energy vipers from my social media platforms and friend only those with good vibes. Damn — wait…see that? I caught you there. Somehow, you’ve got me talking about resolutions — your voodoo is so slippery.
It’s not that I don’t like you January 1. I do. I mean, you do offer that yearly clean slate thing, which we could all use a little more of. Starting over. The old “every day is a new day to begin again” idea is a bit unrealistic, wouldn’t you agree? Can I really begin every day, anew and fresh? Can I really release the 50+ years of baggage I’ve acquired with so much as a good night’s sleep? No. I can’t. Although I really do appreciate you trying to make me feel better.
Here’s the problem with New Year’s Day. Our expectations are so elevated that the eventual trip and fall is well…inevitable. I always ask, with honest curiosity, “If we didn’t have this whole calendar-time clock thing we follow religiously, what would January 1st really be like?” Would we be clamoring for a night out on December 31st, hoping to look cool in our Instagram posts as we party the night away well past our usual bedtime? Probably not. If we didn’t have such a thing as New Year’s Rockin’ Eve, would we be searching for something sequined to wear? Would we don plastic glasses with the numerical new year to our faces? Would we wear silly hats and blow horns and kiss strangers if we weren’t counting Earth’s spin around the global commander known as our Sun? I, for one, think I would probably save the money spent on such revelry and buy some nice smelling shower soap. Or maybe a personal pan pizza.
I must come clean though. I’m guilty of the end of the year fantasy festivities. I’ve had many years where I did indeed party the night away (or fought, or cried, or vomited, or danced…you get the idea.) I’ve fallen victim to the desire to live it up like there’s no tomorrow. Because if you’re going by our modern yearly calendar, technically on December 31st, there is no tomorrow (in the current year anyway.) That’s why the pressure exists. Today is all there is. And if you don’t use it wisely, well, somehow, maybe you missed out.
But nothing is further from the truth. For those that are home or alone or sad or depressed on New Year’s Eve, I say just ride it out. Travel through it instead of against it. It will pass. And at midnight, you can say “So long sucker” with pride.
So why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we recommend resolutions and reviews and revelry? Because we are salivating humans looking for our next merriment meal. We are searching and wondering and dreaming of a shiny sign — pointing us in the right direction. We want comfort and inspiration and success wrapped up neatly in a holiday burrito. We want to have our cake, and green smoothie too.
There are no magic potions or spells available for any new year. Or new month, week, or day. There can only be a willingness to see what the next sunrise brings…and hopefully, a coffee mug of luck to warm us along the way.
