We’re all okay

city-night-explosion-firework

I don’t like to watch the ball drop on New Year’s Eve.  I finally admitted that out loud last night when my husband came into our room at 11:45pm and found me reading in bed.  “It’s depressing,” I told him.

When I’ve watched the ball drop in years past, I see thousands of people crammed into streets in major cities, dressed in their glittery clothes (why does “glittery” never go out of fashion for NYE?) wearing cardboard tiaras and blowing through cardboard tubes and generally acting like buffoons.  It’s as though people are trying to get in their last act of idiocy before the New Year starts and some magical spell blankets the Earth and we’re all expected to be better, fitter, happier, more disciplined and more organized.  Everyone is bouncing around with glee whether they’re saying goodbye to the year with joy or sorrow, they’re welcoming the New Year as though it brings great change with it.  To me, their behavior seems affected or contrived.  When I watch people acting that way, or experience it in my own small town, that energy somehow seeps into me like a dye, coloring my vision and making me see the world in a false way.

It shouldn’t be a bad thing, right? Feeling others’ happiness and hopefulness and expectations should be a good thing.  Somehow it’s not.  Not for a Sensitive like me.  It’s TOO much.  All that hope and glee fills me up and makes me brittle and then I crack before the first week of the New Year is over.

When the ball drops or the countdown finishes, I feel exactly the same.  Nothing has changed.  It’s such a letdown. So anticlimactic.

I try to shield myself from it all, but it’s hard.  It’s hard to keep the dye from seeping in.  It’s hard to not have expectations for the future.  It’s hard to look back over the past and make a judgment: was last year good or bad?  Will this year be better or worse?

It seems everyone inherently deems that last year needed improving, so they vow to do better and be better.  Is that what we’re up against?  Is our life summed up in a check box: Good or Bad?  What if I have fond memories of last year? Does that mean I can expect this coming year to suck?  Is the expectation that we’re supposed to improve ourselves each year until we die? I don’t really think life works that way.  At least, I hope it doesn’t.

I think that each year mostly balances itself out.  Even if a horrific, sad event took place, you can find a hundred little happy things to balance it out.  Even if you experienced unfathomable joy, there is always a sad moment to balance it out.  We bob and weave but we stay on our life path, and that’s as it should be.

When the Global Hope abounds each New Year, it’s hard to not be filled with anticipation of a better future.  It’s contagious, that hope stuff.  And every February, it’s hard to not be filled with the Global Depression because most people have already given up or “failed” at their goal.  Sensitives are particularly vulnerable to this worldwide mood swing. We feel a lot. It’s a glorious and horrible thing, being a Sensitive.  People like us who feel so much don’t need to make their own resolutions, they can just wait and feel the anticipation and let down of the world around them.

I want to start this New Year not with blinders or in a defensive stance against the dye, but surrounded in my own bubble of okayness.  I am okay.  I don’t need improving.  I’m just fine the way I am.  We all are, really.  We can make goals to lose weight or gain muscle or work harder or work less or be cleaner or better or okay-er, but those things don’t change who we are.  I’m still me and you’re still you and that’s just fine.

No matter what year it is, we’re all okay.

We’re all okay.

 

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01. January 2016 by Shannon
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