In recent weeks, I’ve had a number of conversations with folks that have lived through difficult seasons in this last year. Without fail, the final sentiment includes some sort of farewell to the awfulness of 2023 and massive hope for how much better 2024 will be. “New year, new me.” “This will be my year!” “I’m so ready for 2023 to be out of here.” “Bring on 2024!” Peace out 2023!” And, while I understand and agree with the feeling, I have found myself wondering why we engage in this annual tradition of hope, as false as it may be.
We act as if something magical will happen when the clock strikes midnight on December 31st. As if flipping the calendar will erase the grief of the last 12 months. As if a new day will bring a totally new way of being in the world. As if old pains, hurts, and challenges will be left in the dust, never again taking up space in our hearts and minds.
Friends, I have never wished that to be true more than this year. But, I’ve lived through enough anti-climactic New Year’s Eves and forgotten resolutions to truly believe it happens that way.
January 1st will not bring an end to the grief that this year has held. It won’t mean an end to doctors appointments, med schedules, juggling finances, or treatment plans. It won’t mean an end to the suffering of this world. It won’t mean only joy-filled days going forward. Hard days will come along for the 2024 ride, too, no matter how much we resolve to keep them in the past.
As optimistic as we may be, logically we know that a new year doesn’t mean an instant change in our luck or situation. So why do we hang on to those fluffy new year’s sentiments?
Maybe it’s because we so badly want an easy answer.
Maybe it’s because we just need a switch to flip our situation on its head.
Maybe it’s because change, in any capacity, is just so, so hard.
Maybe it’s because we are so very tired of all the last year piled at our door.
Maybe it’s because hope springs eternal.
It is the season of hope after all. A time when we believe a miracle might be just around the corner. It’s a time when it can truly feel like magic is in the air (have you talked to a 5 year old this time of year??) A time when hope isn’t silly, but feels like something you can rely on, sink your teeth into, and trust to carry you forward when you can’t manage another step on your own.
So, we dream and wonder and ponder what a new day will be like – what it might mean if the worst is behind us, what possibilities might open up before us, if we can leave all that is weighing us down behind and step into a fresh start.
If you’re there, in that happy, pondering place, stay there. Enjoy it! Take a break from the pain of reality and gather your strength for what’s to come. But if you aren’t, that’s ok too. Join me in my realistic optimism. Could life in 2024 be everything we’ve dreamt of? Sure, it could be! Will I still have the challenges of 2023 crossing the new year’s threshold? You bet! Could we all be in for some well-earned joy this next year? Definitely! Might grief catch us off guard, showing up when it’s least welcome? I can almost guarantee it.
Tonight, we’ll experience the longest night of the year. As we hit the winter solstice, longer days are on the horizon, praise be! More light coming into our world. More light by which to see what the future might hold. But tonight, it’s ok to make friends with the dark. To take stock of the last year by the light of a candle, instead of a sharp spotlight. Light that might soften the harsh edges of this past year’s hurts. Light that might offer warmth to the cold-hearted interactions that we tend to carry around with us. Light that might invite us toward healing and wholeness instead of the dissection of every wrong move. Light that makes it hard to see every misstep and mistake. And light that is impossible to do math by, eliminating the constant calculation of our self worth.
In the Christine Kane song, “Made of Steel” she wrote:
As for me, I’ve had my demons, Beating down my own back door
Breakin’ bad and talking mean , They’ll wait for me for sure
I propose we let them in, Sit ’em down and raise a toast
Get ’em drunk and leave those demons, Refuse to be the host
Maybe the newness we hope to experience in a new year means refusing to host those “demons” that have been at our back doors this year? They might still be around next year, but we can raise a farewell toast to them and no longer allow them to take up residence in our lives. Sure, they might show up unexpectedly once in a while, but maybe, just maybe, we can create a 2024 where they are just visitors, not hardships that make themselves comfortable in our lives and never leave. So tonight, on the longest night, maybe we can confront those demons, toast the lessons they’ve taught us (which we WILL carry forward), and send them packing. We’ll take that valuable education and our newfound hope into the brighter days coming. It’s not magical, of course. Moving those things we don’t want out of residence in our lives takes work (and usually a good therapist). But it is possible to make space for more joy and less pain.
So new year, new me? Nah, that’s unlikely. But new year, new space in my heart and mind for positive things? Absolutely! New year, new ways of acknowledging grief? Yep! New year, new hope for physical, mental, and emotional health? Definitely, if we work on it!
May we all enter into this longest night with the understanding that a new year means continuing to bear the challenges of living in this world. May we have a flicker of hope in our hearts that can dim the light on last year’s pain and grow into a flame of joy in 2024.
Your help is still needed as I continue treatment into 2024. Here’s how you can be a part of it.
- There are still lots of products I need on an ongoing basis that can be gifted. Check out the Amazon wish list here.
- Give a gift through venmo or PayPal to help me pay off medical debts (@kimunc03) .
- Send me your best work from home tips. Share what you’ve learned as I start to pick up hours in the new year.
- Comment here and share your best ideas for finding more joy in 2024. How are you giving up the ghosts of 2023?
Seeking Sabbath 