January 1, 2021. This is not a reset. You’re still the same person you were yesterday.
There’s still no widely administered vaccine. You’re probably still in lockdown. You totally saved $150 on the cover charge for some overblown NYE club party last night, which you can sock away into a ‘Will I actually get to travel in 2021?’ fund.
If 2020 taught us anything, it's that a tough year doesn't get a free reset on New Year's Eve.
The trick to getting through is not a positive vibe. It's having people who know you, love you, and have your back, even when you feel like disappearing.
Make sure they know, always.
— Abby (@abbythetweet) December 31, 2020
If you’re like me, you lost a parent in 2020, unexpectedly and suddenly, and that alone essentially makes last year irredeemable bullshit. You’re not obligated to find the silver linings in 2020; those silver linings might just be toxic lead paint preventing you from truly accepting and growing from the grief and pain of a uniquely ridiculous year.
Focusing on the positives is a cliche that only has temporary benefits, and requires you to ‘fake it til you make it,’ so to speak. Constantly forcing a positive spin on a shit situation is toxic, too. I tried it this year, but death is not spilled milk. It’s not being late for the train to work. The pain of loss is literally hell on earth.
Don’t fake it. Feel it. Lean on those who care about you, who feel the same pain, or shared your shitty experiences. Even though it was so easy to feel lonely in 2020, you weren’t alone.
Watching CNN’s New Year’s Eve special with Anderson Cooper and Andy Cohen last night was, in ways, cathartic for me. Cooper spoke about losing his own father as a child, and the inherent loneliness of a prefab celebration like New Year’s Eve. It was like we spoke the same language, especially this year.
Remember when Dick Clark retired and we were all 'Ryan Seacrest can't fill his shoes!'
But then Anderson Cooper said 'Hold my beer, ' and we totally took a secret sip while we watched America's damn sweetheart become the real new Dick Clark?
I think about this just enough.
— Abby (@abbythetweet) December 31, 2020
Then perpetual fuckface and preternaturally-inclined manwhore John Mayer had to go and perform “You’re Gonna Live Forever in Me,” and I sobbed into my glass of Jura scotch for twenty minutes thinking about my Dad. The trigger was as welcome as it was unwelcome, but felt necessary.
Hold on to the memories, pain, and lessons learned in 2020; they’re supposed to help you heal, in time. May 2021 give you the space and grace to do just that.
