So, 2021 is here. Not much different to 2020, is it?
And that is why I don’t do New Year’s Eve. On any regular year I’m not a big fan of la nochevieja as it always feels so hopeful and I’m always gutted when I don’t wake up in my thirties, in my own masía with a comfortable bank balance on January 1st. So this year especially, I could not. be. in. the. slightest. bit. arsed. about. seeing. it. in. Fuck that. Apart from that, this year it felt inappropriate to ‘celebrate’, even in small numbers. I think my sudden conservative sensibilities have been brought on by binge-watching Bridgerton.
For years I’ve enjoyed making my way home before the big night, to enjoy a bit of meditation, light some candles, prepare something nice to eat, have a glass of fizz, reflect on the year that’s passed and think about what I want for the coming year, maybe write some notes, a list, a little incantation. Last year, I was in bed by 10.30pm.
I’m glad I did that.
By January 6th, 2021 had said ‘hold my beer’.
I have no resolutions this year. My failures in years passed simply provided me with a giant stick with which to beat the crap out of myself. Do I have some realistic goals? Yes.
Turning fifty in March without having a breakdown is one.
For a month before my fortieth, I couldn’t control my tears (maybe it’s not a Covid thing after all) and questioned myself and my achievements every waking moment. The tears would start without warning. The number 40 was like a sledgehammer thwacking my skull persistently. Panicking, I had nude photos done; physically, things were still impressively perky. I also sat down in the middle of the street one evening to sob during an after dinner walk with my partner; mentally, things were not. These last ten years have flown, ^takes several deep breaths^.
Along with staying sane during the next few weeks, my projects for this year are to keep a dream diary, they’ve been pretty wild recently, be more creative with my photoaday habit, finish the six books I didn’t complete in 2020 (concentration was at an all time low last year), read more, paint more. One very valuable lesson to come out of 2020 was taking care of my money. Finally. So keeping that in check is a priority. Maybe even saving a little. Imagine. So far, so good. I AM GOING TO SIGN UP TO DANCE CLASSES AS SOON AS IT IS SAFE. Yes, I’m shout typing. I miss dancing. And live music. And both together.
I think just taking one day at a time is good advice and a good start, and at the end of each one, saying, ‘ yay! I got through it.’ Lord knows, even that’s a challenge. Giving ourselves a big fucking break from putting additional pressure on ourselves, while the world around us is still burning, might just help too. It’s what I plan to do.
There are 51 weeks left of this year, folks, go easy on yourselves.