Monday, December 31, 2012

It's been real, 2012.

My NYE is going to consist of the following, not necessarily in order or at separate times:

1) Drink boxed wine.
2) Write/edit/draw/etc.
3) Watch "Lord of the Rings" appendices.
4) Clean.
5) Walk Zola.
6) Possibly have sex, depending on Three's level of awakeness.
7) Go to sleep.

Honestly, this anticlimactic shtick of mine has been going on since 2006, although at first it was due to a pretty traumatic 2005 NYE in which I was struggling from a deep depression that ended up lasting well into the first quarter of 2006. My roommate, as any wonderful friend would do, forced me out of our dorm room and into her car for a drive out to Manchester, where some friends of hers were having a NYE party. It was awkward, even with the roommate trying to keep me from focusing on bad thoughts, and it seemed like everyone at the party knew to kind of avoid talking to me. While a welcome respite from small talk, the embarrassment of being That Girl at the Party was enough to make me curl up on the couch, away from everyone else, and watch the TV with all its confetti and laughing and cheering and hopefulness. As the ball dropped, I found myself alone, holding a fluke of pink champagne that was mixed with my own tears.
It's the fancy version of the old country staple, "tears in my beer(s)."
Almost understandably, I decided to spend the next New Year's holiday by myself. I was living with my parents at the time, and they had invited me along to their friends' party. It was only a half-serious invite, since I would have been the only 23-year-old at a 50-and-above soiree, but I gratefully declined, instead curling up in my bed with a book and a cup of hot cocoa. I fell asleep before the final countdown*; I didn't come up with any resolutions that year; and I treated it like any other day, a set of actions that I believe actually helped complete the healing process I'd started the year before.

If 2012 has been anything for me, it definitely has been a year of self-discovery. I figured out that, yes, indeed, my job was slowly killing my soul. I realized that, yes, indeed, I am one who operates best with few if any outward constraints. It's the final act of what began as me trying to conquer depression in 2005. Now, I'm not saying that I have been in a state of depression since then, but I have been examining exactly what caused me to get there in the first place.

My longest relationship to date (although Three and I will have this beat by March 2013) ended in 2005, and it was particularly difficult, for several reasons. First, the only reason it lasted that long was because I let it. I was actually done with the relationship after about six months but kept telling myself that it was a phase and that he was the best thing I was ever going to find. It took nearly four years for me to finally admit that I never really loved him the way I should have. Sure, I cared for him as I do a close friend. But I was selfish and made the whole process of breaking up for him that much harder, because I do believe that he loved me. Second, we had taken a short break earlier that year at my insistence, but I, out of loneliness and insecurity, had come to him, wanting to try again. We treated each other horribly during these last few months together. We were both resentful for different reasons. His was because he subconsciously wanted me to pay for hurting him, and mine was due to me blaming him for my own lack of self-sufficiency. Neither reason healthy, he did the honorable thing of ending our relationship, which brings me to the third difficulty: he did this at 11:45P on the night right before my birthday, six days before Christmas. In one of my most pathetic moments, I begged for him to give me another chance. I actually cringe at this now. After hanging up the phone, I managed to go upstairs and put my head in my father's lap and sob. Of course, he had no idea what was going on, but he stroked my hair and just let me cry.

The rest of the holiday season was kind of a blur. I know that it was tedious for my family and friends, and I'm pretty sure I've apologized to every single one of them at least 45 times each. I was this weird shell of a person, and honestly, I'm surprised that I managed to graduate the following semester. It's a wonder that I ever got out of bed. But I did, and I was able to walk across the stage to get my diploma for a degree that I have yet to actually fucking use. And I started a tradition that I have basically kept since: I don't really like celebrating my birthday in any big fashion (we had a grilled chicken dinner at my parents' house this year) and NYE is so low-key that it might as well not even exist for me.
"That is the most lackluster ball I've ever seen. Where's my boxed wine?"
As the years went on, though, I realized that the breakup and my subsequent depression weren't really the heart of the issue and that I was avoiding the real reason that the latter happened. I had limited and defined myself by another person, another entity, which for a Sagittarius is the ultimate sin. I had singularly put my happiness into the idea that this one person, this one relationship, was going to keep me happy and satisfied because he loved me. Not because I loved him. And the New Year resolutions were the same: I was limiting myself to what the following year could mean for me, almost a sort of prediction of fate that I despise making. My mother calls me a free spirit, which I think is a partial insult, but it's fairly accurate. It's not that I am just a leaf on the wind; I trust that what will happen will happen and that, since I have little to no control over it, why worry? All I can do is live my life in the attempt to love all and to do what I am here to do. To try to do anything more just seems kind of silly to me.

So today will end, and tomorrow, the first day of 2013, will begin. I am actually very excited to see where this year goes, seeing as we managed to avoid at least three apocalypses this year**. I see what incredible things occurred this year, which yeah, is infinitely more awesome than the previous year***, and I'm actually excited for the future and its possibilities. I have stories nearly pouring out of me, a great set of friends, a wonderful family, plenty of art supplies, and it's going to be a good year.

Peace out, 2012.


* Because NO ONE ELSE WILL POSSIBLY THINK OF THIS! AI R JEENYUS. (Also, I cannot hear this song without seeing Gob and a knife in his mouth.)
** Don't get your hopes up yet, folks. Ronald Weinland has revised his prediction that Jesus will return on May 19, 2013. Because these guys just DO.NOT.GIVE.UP.
*** A final FUCK YOU to 2011.
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