new year's eve

31.12.2021

Song: Harvest Moon – Neil Young

Happy New Year's Eve!

What if I started this by saying there is nothing to enjoy in this world, friends? There is nothing to desire because our souls are empty, no pleasure to be reached. If there is one, that is the constant anxiety and stress, fear and crushing, inescapable hopelessness.

But no.

We are not talking about that today. We'll have that conversation on Valentine's Day. I want to take you back to last year today. Well, not exactly today. I think it was the 24th of December -my previous therapy session before the New Year of 2020-. I was so lost. I had no life goals (don't get me wrong, not so much has changed in that department). I did, however, know that I was going to drop out of university. I just didn't know when and how. I remember my therapist telling me that I should make a decision soon since the deadlines were coming up, and I was startled for a second. I realized I wasn't going to graduate at the same time as my peers. I was going to be the old one/odd one out. That made me so anxious. For the first time in my life, maybe I wanted to be like every other person around me, continuing their journey even though they're not happy cause they seemed to be on the road at least. A route that will eventually take them somewhere, they were most likely going to finish the "marathon" before I do - yes, and before you say anything, I see this as some kind of a race-. So, I was just a kid who couldn't bear it anymore and wanted a different life so badly that it made me depressed, and I dipped on a degree that my mom could show off to her friends.

I failed. I was a failure in their eyes. My dad was sad, so was my mom. My sister had this stupid grin on her face as if she was almost saying, "I won, and you lost. I'm special, you are not."

I was supposed to be special, I thought. I didn't ask to be, but they made me feel special, the therapists, the psychiatrists. But in the meantime, they just expected me to be normal and go on about my life. They were forgetting something, though. There Is no such thing as normal. It's a stupid word; overrated, does a lot of damage.

Sometimes I think being a human being is hard, you know, really hard. Keeping our shit together, so that we look semi-good to strangers, really.

My father once told me, "Every single action of everyday life builds or unmakes character," which implies that you're made up of everything you do and come to think of it, that's quite alright.

So, you're asking yourself? What exactly am I? well, I DON'T KNOW?!

What's all this "me" business anyway? What's the harm in not knowing and being inconsistent? Just a little uncertain. Why are you obligated to be anything? I know the answer. You're terrified if you don't. Obscurity frightens you. It's dreadful not to be able to control what happens to you in two seconds, minutes, or hours. But you don't want to feel frightened. Because then your day is ruined. No. Feel what you're feeling, friend. Give yourself the space and permission to feel whatever emotions arise. But do not ever get stuck in that wheel. Surround yourself with trustworthy people, create this weird jar of gratitude, maybe. I don't know. But do something about it, keep moving, end the pity party you planned ahead, even that itself will mean that you're one tiny bit step closer to finding out what you're becoming. That's all I got.

Here's to a bright New Year and a farewell to the old dusty 2021.

-M