Dear New Year,
I have a confession to make; I’m not quite ready for you yet. You have snuck up too quickly and quite frankly, I find that rather rude. I’m sure you’re not due for at least another 3 weeks, and I could really use those weeks.
I haven’t had any time to make any resolutions, plan anything grand, or even come up with some wonderfully inspiring, all-encompassing word that will guide the direction of the next 365 days. This bothers me greatly, because I really don’t like to feel disorganised.
I’m holding you responsible for this.
Also for feeling like I ate too many Chambord balls over Christmas. We could blame that on the fact that just as I wrote that sentence Boatman presented me with one, and I don’t possess the necessary self-control to refuse it, but we won’t. We will blame it on you. The new year. Because most people go into that planning on being slimmer so obviously you are making us all fat before hand. You’re clearly just a marketing gimmick.
But I digress.
What I’m really frustrated by, (and I suppose I begrudgingly admit this has nothing to do with January the first at all), is that what I would really love, come 2014, just seems so far out of reach, that I’m finding it pointless to even try to dream about it. Which then annoys me even more, because I’m a big dreamer, and the lack of even wanting to just makes me sad with myself. Have you ever felt sad with yourself New Year? It’s not the best place to be.
I need a change. Something new, something different, something radical. Something that goes beyond a new pair of dress shorts and some great shoes to match (though, I won’t be saying no to that should that become a possibility.) I just want to have hope that next year won’t be the same as this one. Not that this was a bad year; by all means, it was the contrary. A lot of great stuff happened in 2013, and I won’t take any of that for granted. I accomplished a lot, but more importantly than that, I grew a lot. As a person I became better this year than the year before and I cannot possibly despise that.
But the thing is, as good as 2013 was, that there is the problem; it’s already been. Ran along just like every other year ever before, doing what they do. And whilst I love the predictability and the routine and the norm, I don’t want to do that again. I want more.
The thought of doing 2013 again, just with a slight variation, makes me feel kind of ill. And sad. And like I want to punch you in the face, Mr New Year. Because if that’s what you’re bring with you tomorrow morn, you can just hold off thank you very much. I’ll stay with this year until we’re all ready for something new and exciting, if you don’t mind.
It’s not all your fault really. I can’t blame it all on you; it’s not the circumstances that are wearing me down, so much as it is my attitude. I’ve lost the joy, and I need to find it. I’m tired and worn down and trying too hard to do what needs to be done, I’ve stopped dreaming about what could be done. Or embracing each moment that actually is. It’s just life really; it’s the place we’ve landed in, and it’s ok. It is what it is, and we are so blessed really compared to everyone else, and I can cope with it just so long as somewhere in there, there is time to dream again.
To have hope.
To imagine that maybe, just maybe, when the champagne has been drunk, Auld Lang Syne trails off, and Boatman has kissed me into the new year, there will be the possibility of something new and different. Even if it just is the possibility and nothing more.
I really need that possibility.
I really need that dream.
And so, dear New Year, no I don’t have any resolutions or plans or words or aspirations. Just exhaustion and a faint glimmer of hope that as I limp along into 2014, drag my feet across the line and write out the important dates on the new calendar, the world will open itself up with possibility, and maybe, just maybe, this can be the best year yet.
And the fact that I can write that, shows me that maybe I’m not done dreaming just yet.
See you tomorrow,
Are you all set for you New Year?