So many significant and fantastic things can happen in a year. I experience all the holidays, months, birthdays, school activities, and many opportunities.
A lot of people I have talked to told me they thought that the prior year was superb and will always be remembered for the activities that it held. There were some noteworthy events of the year, like going to see Taylor Swift, Spring break, and Homecoming. On the other hand, other parts of the year can compete over the outcome of the year: the recurring infections I had, my dog tearing her leg muscle, and the unusual weather patterns.
I automatically coined the year as not great, but I don’t fully understand why. I truly have coined the last few years as substandard years. Each year has positive aspects, but I have such high expectations of what it must live up to that they usually can’t reach the bar set.
It also seems like I coin a year based on my emotions throughout the year, which could be a valuable and real reason why they are always inferior. I have constant anxious feelings hovering over me like a stranger’s shadow. Even the most joyful of moments contain a remnant of anxiety that cannot be shaken or fled. If it could, maybe the year could reach the level I set for them without the luring anxiety.
The thoughts of the year never come until the week after Christmas. It is probably in the ranks for one of my least favorite weeks of the year. It starts the night of Christmas when I have a major breakdown about how fast the season flew by and how I am not ready for it to be over. For the next few days, I continued with the after-Christmas depression and also used up all of my recent gifts until I had nothing else to do with myself than sit and sulk on the couch. Then, in the days leading to New Year’s Eve, I panic about the holiday for reasons I’m not completely sure of. I know I have thoughts of my night activities like if I will invite someone or if they will invite me, but I also have imminent thoughts on how an entire year has strode by while it seems like the previous New Year was only last week. The polite panic of what my New Year’s resolution must be is also an omnipresent thought throughout the leading days. Overall, it is a week that may seem to be anticipated but is dreaded instead.
This year may have been my favorite year change. I had the least amount of “after-Christmas depression sulk week,” and instead, a change in environment, busy, and relaxing week. I was in Florida instead of Michigan. Last year, I connected the dots on spring break that when I vacationed in Florida, my anxiety and depression were significantly minor compared to my day-to-day life in Michigan. It gave me a ten-day reality escape filled with shopping, beaches, palm trees, and stunning sunsets.
Instead of crying on my couch on Christmas night, I watched White Christmas while over-packing all of my last-minute outfits. The week after, I spent taking too many pictures, shopping, and swimming. It felt like a bridge between the years, instead of just a change, and honestly, it settled a large portion of my prior anxieties.
Would 2023 count as a great year? Probably not. Did all of my stresses come back once I got home? Most did. Still, I was able to enjoy the end and start of two different years somewhere away from everything that normally causes the time to be overly stressful and sad. Even when coming home, I thought about everywhere I was going this year and how I got to return home tan and relaxed. I had a productive and positive feeling about the year that normally isn’t present.
It gave me the thought that maybe by next year, I can quote that 2024 was one of the best years, and my standards won’t be as high, or maybe they will just be reached.
