Let’s talk about New Year’s Eve.
Ever since I could remember, New Year’s Eve has always been the one day of the year that I truly look forward to more than any of the others. With the lights, the parties, the turning of one calendar year to the next — magically ridding everyone of their ills, vices, bad habits, big mistakes, painful moments — signifying a cleansing change and revitalization of self, this was one day that I always wanted to make special. As a lover of cliches and symbolism, watching the massive clock projection in Time’s Square countdown in sync with the dropping of that infamous crystal-covered geodesic sphere to the moment you see one year flow harmoniously and effortlessly into the next continues giving me the butterfly feelings of hope.
However, the enormity of the potential held by New Year’s Eve and what comes immediately after inevitably always ends up putting equal parts excitement and stress into my brain (and there is an awful lot of excitement, so just imagine the stress on top of all the other anxious thoughts my brain always thinks). Every year always had to be an *actual* celebration with the full kit and caboodle: the ball drop on the TV, the large party with a group of people I’m close with, the fun outfits, the glasses, the Martinellis (later to be replaced with much too much champagne), the fireworks, the 12 grapes to bring good luck to each month of the new year, the dancing, the singing, the resolutions, the running around outside and blasting “Good Life” by OneRepublic — a tradition started in 2014 by my lifelong chosen sister and best friend who was visiting from Denmark. I had to look good, and feel good, and every year growing up I always mostly wanted someone to kiss on New Year’s (if we remember from my first post, I was convinced I should have had my lifelong soulmate at thirteen because I apparently had to be in love, married, and a mother to two kids by twenty-five… yikes). While that last little bit has become slightly more of a reality in the last two years, I still sometimes find myself overwhelmed by my expectations of the holiday. And when my own extravagant expectations aren’t meant, the disappointment I feel can sometimes swallow me whole for at least a week after.
In 2005, I felt my first real pang of that disappointment. My dad was shipped out for work; my younger brother was fast asleep by 9pm. My mom and I were the only two souls awake and in my house to celebrate the change from 2005 to 2006. Just a few months before the end of the year, my mom’s grandma had passed away from breast cancer. It was the first in a string of big deaths — particularly on my mom’s side of the family — that shaped and colored the next few years in ways we never really imagined. But we of course had no way of knowing that then. However, it being a big blow to my mom made her realize she just wanted a quiet New Year’s Eve so that she could let that year go without too much fuss since it had been a painful one. I, always having that sense of urgency to make NYE the literal best night of my life every year, ended up watching the ball drop alone with my mom sleeping on the couch next to me. While twenty-four year old me can now understand the need for a quiet New Year’s — especially in the wake of loss and heartbreak — eleven year old me was devastated. Eleven year old me made a promise to myself that I would always make sure I did something to celebrate the momentousness of a new year rolling in.
Since then, I’ve done just that. Every year has involved a party, friends, outfits, dancing, singing — the whole works. One year involved 9 hours spent at Disneyland trying to keep walkways moving when people wanted to stop and snag spots for the Disneyland countdown fireworks 5 hours ahead of time only to wind up in a planter at the end of Main Street across the street from my friends as we watched the faces of guests contort in anger and confusion as the fireworks failed to go off over the castle due to wind (but the fireworks CONVENIENTLY went off at California Adventure… you know… the complete opposite direction and opposite park from where we all were). The year after that luckily was spent solely with my then boyfriend after work where I got my first New Year’s Eve kiss and we took polaroid pictures while drinking champagne. I was on cloud nine that year, honestly. The following year involved me — single — swing-dancing and making out with a random guy at a party while dressed in a leotard and thigh high heels, then proceeding to kiss a few other friends of mine when the ball dropped and celebrating/crying over the fact that I had survived the year of my first real heartbreak.
Which lands us at this year’s shenanigans. This was my first New Year’s Eve in 3 years where I didn’t have to work at all. It involved a house party hosted by my some of my favorite friends, lots of good beer, enthusiastic karaoke, and a metric shit ton of people I didn’t know. There was a run to In n Out and Albertson’s before the party where I thirdwheeled my friends. I wore a pretty dress and curled my hair and then ended up in my friend’s room reading for an hour because I was overwhelmed by the amount of people/my own emotions. I sang karaoke. I missed a few key and important friends who were playing a gig to ring in 2019. I cleaned up part of my friend’s house when I was tired of talking to people. I didn’t kiss anyone this year or even get to flirt with someone (and I looked/felt good DAMN IT). I sat on a sidewalk with my friend at 4am and kept checking on people to make sure they were feeling okay. I helped kick out a few high school kids trying to engage in adult behaviors in my friends’ rooms. I spent some time enjoying myself, but most of the time thinking about what I wanted to be doing differently.
I didn’t have a lot of time to hype myself up over New Year’s Eve because I changed jobs three times this year, only finally landing on a job with steady hours and holidays off in mid-November. Prior to that, I was at a hotel with crazy hours that I was convinced for the longest time was where I was going to spend my favorite holiday (and I probably would’ve been working overnight). Before even the hotel, I had been at Disney which meant holidays were always a gamble. So when it came time for this holiday season in general, I found that I wasn’t prepared mentally. I had been braced for so long to endure the whole holiday season on my own that my new job with it’s paid holidays off came as a complete shock to my system. I hadn’t even really thought about the holidays at all so I feel as if I stumbled my way through them without really being present, almost trying too hard to realize that I had been home for Thanksgiving AND Christmas. Then New Year’s rolled around and I still hadn’t given a lot of thought or weight to it even though I had committed to the party a month prior.
On top of that, this year felt particularly unimportant. Last year was fueled by my breakup and made me feel a lot more courageous (aided by lots of wine, of course). Last year, I felt like I had something to prove, to show myself that I was going to be just fine in 2018. This year I was just back to being normal, not-heartbroken me. I did spend some time wondering what my ex was doing and pitying myself for feeling cute with no one to show off to. I felt boring and unimportant, lost in a sea of people I didn’t know that my friends were somehow navigating with much more ease than I could have done. And so even at a party that checked off most of the boxes of what I was looking for, I still felt like I was missing something: closeness.
But maybe that’s almost a good thing. It was a lesson to begin the new year 2019, a year I already feel will be a good one in my heart. It was a lesson in learning what I actually want instead of being wrapped up in the overly dramatized ideas of what I think I want. It was a lesson in learning to be okay with where I was, knowing that I will do everything to make the ringing in of 2020 the best damn New Year’s Eve of my life (thus far). It was a lesson in understanding that life is really what you make it and fill it with.
So from now on, the list is simple: surround myself with people I love, drinking good wine and celebrating all that we’ve been through in addition to what we hope for; be somewhere inviting and fun — maybe some years even spend it somewhere new at some big party or small venue as long as I’ve got friends by my side; and of course, 12 grapes and an outfit I feel FABULOUS in.
*”Good Life” by OneRepublic starts playing in the background.*
Heart Matters 