My relationship with new year’s…it’s complicated. For the most part, I hate it. Well, mostly I hate New Year’s Eve. All the pressure, all the alcohol, all the hugging. As an introvert, these things, even with my own family, give me major anxiety.
Bagpipes terrify me
If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say my dislike of the holiday started when I was a kid. New year’s then was spent at our local working mens club. My grandparents were regulars and the rest of us, we went for high days and holidays. Mostly it was fun. The ladies drank wine and played bingo in the function room. In the men’s only room (seriously) it was pints of bitter in between games of darts or bagatelle. Us kids had free rein to chase each other around the smoke filled club high on fizzy pop. In and out of the bingo tables, through the sticky floors of the main bar. Gossiping in the damp, mouldy toilets where the doors didn’t shut and the floors regularly flooded.
On New Year’s Eve, families sat together around tables laden with empty glasses and piled high with packets of crisps and dry roasted peanuts. That night, I never ventured too far away from the safety of our table. Just before midnight the atmosphere became charged and, knowing what was to come, I would streak across the room and be face down in my Grandma’s lap before the pipers, dressed in the full Scottish regalia, appeared. Like the pied piper, the other kids followed them in a line as they solemnly paced through every room of the club. The high pitched drone of the pipes assaulted my tender ears from every corner of the building. I wouldn’t lift my head until the last squealing note had been played. Safe to say, it spoiled the night for me.
I tried
As an adult, with no piper in sight, it is the insincerity of new year’s that I hate. I don’t drink and, even with people I like, all the jollity and hugging, it all just feels, well, a bit false.
My husband is way more social than me though, and so, with the help of alcohol, I have ‘enjoyed’ the evening in the past. Our house, for a number of years, was party central and I did lean it. Fancy dress, cocktail fountains, tequila slammers. Joining in with the hugging at midnight doesn’t feel so awkward when you’re well oiled. But even then, I’d try to hide away as those Big Ben bells chimed midnight.
And I hated going into a new year feeling like crap. New years day would be spent ridding the house of empty bottles and stale beige food, while trying not bring up those tequila slammers mixed with sex on the beach. My worst year, I was 7-months pregnant, on my hands and knees, scrubbing somebody else’s vomit from every crevice of my downstairs loo. My contorting to reach behind the toilet with a huge bump probably looked comical. I spent the day in tears.
I tried escaping it
Other years I have escaped the night completely. Before kids, my husband and I went to New York where it was so cold it felt like my jeans were made of ice. Times Square was only a couple of blocks away but we watched the ball drop on the TV from the warmth of our hotel bed. Then a couple of years ago, the three of us visited Australia. Bringing in the new year 12-hours before our loved ones meant that I avoided any awkwardness. And as the fireworks exploded over Noosa beach, we were once again ensconced in our bed, this time watching Naked and Afraid.
New year, new me?
Then there’s the whole resolution thing. Setting intensions for the year ahead; new year, new me. I’ve done meditations and written lists. I’ve visualised and journaled and been certain that this year, I really will become the best version of myself.
Now, I’ve given up on all of that. There’s too much pressure and I done it enough times to know that it never works. But, if I’m honest, there’s still that voice which likes to remind me that I need to lose weight, exercise more, write, do yoga, meditate every day.
Going into the new year quietly
This year, I did it my way. New Year’s Eve, I took down the decorations and cleaned the house. Fresh bedding went on, of course. I met my dad for a walk and we had some breakfast. In the evening I had a curry with my family, leaving early to avoid the cringe. At midnight, I was in my nice warm bed listening to the latest Marian Keyes novel on Audible. New Year’s Day, I had a roast with loads of vegetables and watched Marvel films all day.
As for resolutions, my only one this year is to take each day as it comes. Or better still, as Glennon Doyle says, to just do the next right thing.
That voice that wants me to lose weight and do all of the things is still there, but it’s fainter than before. I’m doing very my best to ignore it.
Happy new year.
