Glitter & Good Intentions
A resolution-free New Years Eve
I wrote a piece about 2023 for you because it’s New Years Eve and I felt like I had to write something on this momentous day. But I’ve been circling it all day.
It doesn’t feel big enough. How do I wrap up a year? especially a year like this. And why am I wrapping it up at all?
I could also feel myself trying to write something Good for the large new batch of subscribers that I’m convinced are only going to stay if utter brilliance shows up in their inbox. And that is not how something good was every written.
(Also hello! Welcome! And thank you; I am so so glad you’re here. Also, you terrify me.)
So I walked away from the piece to let it breathe and a part of me who is feeling particularly petulant and thinks writing about this “holiday” is a waste of time showed up. And when a part shows up, I love to let her write instead:
If you would like a wrap here, it’s here, but if you’re down for some holiday petulance, keep on scrollin’
New Years Eve has always been my (our) favorite holiday. I love sparkles and fireworks and intentionality and non-denominational holidays that everyone can share.
But I have been putting an increasing amount of pressure on myself leading up to New Years Eve to have the best, most intentional, most sparkly holiday ever.
And I am just not here for it this year.
Nothing about today feels like the end of something to me. I am in the middle of a lot of things. The middle of winter, a season in which I am embracing slowness and hibernation for the first time. I am in the middle of healing. I am the middle of building a writing practice. I am in the middle of hurting from a break up. I am in the middle of being better to my friends. I am in the middle of building a life I love.
There is nothing besides a calendar to say this is the end of something. Or the beginning of something else.
I don’t have homework and I don’t write checks so the date doesn’t have an impact on my day (though now I do have some nostalgia for the “oh HA HA HA HA it’s twenty twenty FOUR now; I forgot HA HA HA” moments.)
(A quick aside: I just went to do a quick internet search for which figure of the patriarchy I might be rail against for trying to tell ME when to celebrate an ending or a beginning and Julius Caesar is credited for a lot the features of the modern calendar EXCEPT HIS STARTED IN MARCH. OKAY CAESAR, GOOD JOB. Pope Gregory, however… not so smart.)
Resuming.
I love sparkly dresses, but I don’t want to wear one when it is 40 degrees outside. And I don’t want to go to a party and have to look at my shoes at midnight.
Fireworks aren’t novel anymore because I live in Washington Heights NYC where the booms of illegal fireworks being set off on the street rattle my apartment for a full month surrounding July 4th and New Years. Plus my sweet little dog is not a fan. It’s just our second New Years Eve together.
Hangovers cost me a full day now and I’m not interested in writing January 1st off.
Speaking of January 1st, it will still be cold, the sun will still set by 5pm, and my heart will not magically be unbroken come the first morning of 2024.
My feelings about the parties and hangovers and cold aren’t new so the last few years I’ve moved into more of a quiet intention mode. I’ve gathered my family and written things we want to leave behind and things we want more of in the new year on little strips of paper. We burn the things we want to leave behind in our New Years Eve fire.
But even that doesn’t feel quite right this year.
I don’t want to rewrite things I’ve already written on little pieces of paper this year. I have been intentional a lot these last 12 months. There’s not a lot left to burn.
I’m in therapy. I have new resolutions every other week.
Plus, Baileys hot chocolate and seasonal depression season is just not the time for a sober month (or is it? Yikes.)
Tomorrow is not going to be a new me.
But not because I’m “petulant”. I don’t want to be a new me. Maybe for the first time in my life. I like the me I’m in the middle of finding and the life I’m in the middle of building.
So basically, I am REALLY BUSY RIGHT NOW. I am in the middle of something. I have momentum in a way I’ve never experienced. Please do not interrupt with fireworks, forced resolutions, and long-ass wrap up posts about our “year of healing”.
-Petulant Stephanie out! Love you bye! Happy New Year! or whatever!
And now for my favorite part: the things that just happen anyway.
In the middle of editing this, I rang in the New Year with champagne and new year wishes.
My brother’s girlfriend who is from Russia is visiting this year. She told us about her family’s tradition of writing a wish, lighting it on fire, dropping it in a glass of champagne, and drinking it all in the 60 seconds of the clock chiming midnight.
While typing about hangovers and how very busy I am, I could hear her pour champagne by herself and call her family in Russia to celebrate. My niece got out a bottle of sparkling cider. I sighed at myself and jumped up two minutes before 4pm and poured myself a glass. I hurried. I tore up small strips of paper and put them alongside pencils on the table. She looked surprised, but swung her family around so we could all be together. My dad lit a candle and as the clock clicked over to 4:00 in the kitchen, and the midnight chimes started in Russia, we all scribbled wishes.
And now I’m back here, writing about it, crying because it was so lovely.
So.
I don’t know.
I hope you celebrate this day in whatever way brings you joy and peace.
If you need the push to make resolutions, make them. I can’t wait to hear them and support you through them.
If you need the momentum of a fresh start, take it. I’m really so proud of you.
If you want to let go of 2023, burn it.
If you want the sparkles, wear them.
If you’re excited about a party, go!
If you want to sip something warm or bubbly alone or with people you love, I’m so here for that too.
If you don’t want any of it this year, embrace your 8 year old self’s bedtime, and sleep through it.
I think, this year, I’ll save my sparkles and midnight traditions for the Eve of the First Day of Spring. I’m sure I can even get petulant Stephanie into some glitter for a new tradition that makes sense for us.
2023 came in like a lion. 2024 can come in peace.
This was petulant Stephanie’s first piece, but you can read conversations with my other parts here. They are some of my favorite.
I also published the original 2023 wrap up piece I wrote (2023 Lost and Found) instead of trashing it because I love process and transparency and maybe it’s not as unnecessary as I think it is.
The 2023 Lost & Found
2023 took my shoulders between her thumbs and forefingers and shook me out like a well-loved sheet just pulled from the dryer. She shook and shook and shook until there was nothing left, but me.
Happy New Year. Or whatever :)
I love this - so relatable and new thoughts too as it moved though to the way of celebrating by drinking a glass of champagne and with the burned paper wish (I guess it's ok to drink the paper if some of it's not burned?). Saving sparkly dresses for the spring sounds like a good idea to me! Wishing you, your dog and family all the best in the New Year - please keep writing!