Endings come with a sense of wistfulness for the period that’s over. The awareness that things will never be the same again, because we are no longer the same people. Free will is often overwhelming – the knowledge that we can make some decision that could drastically alter our lives at almost any point is too much to take in. So, we wait for occasions where this kind of change is warranted. The end of a relationship can signal a change in hairstyle. The end of a job can mean starting a course or skill-building. The end of the calendar year? It’s all of the above and so much more. It’s a mandated period for self-reflection, Spotify-wrapped, and it’s all around us. All the deflection we’ve done all year is no longer effective.
This year has been unlike any other. With drastic reduction in physical and social contact, time felt almost meaningless. The only reminders were other people’s engagements and weddings, notifications from the trips that were cancelled and prompts from the undue number of courses that we signed up for to unlock our improved selves. New lockdown, new me. New month, new me. Every additional commitment served as another essential distraction from the helplessness, dwindling sense of hope and mounting anxiety for what the year would bring.
In such a year, it feels futile to hold ourselves to the standards that we did (not that it stopped us). Rather than reflecting on milestones, here’s a smattering of musings and snippets from conversations this year:
On comparison of milestones:
- Everyone is getting married! Even in a pandemic!
- I know I’m focused on my career growth and all that but it would be nice to have companionship too
- How do I resist the urge to compare my productivity with others?
- The smoke screens are gone. How can everyone else be achieving things right now when I’m struggling to hold it together?
On loneliness:
- Loneliness of isolation at new workplace in building professional relationships online.
- Loneliness in dating – What is all this texting leading to? Putting in all this effort, but not feeling truly connected.
- Loneliness at work – I only talk to my clients/students. My co-workers are just that – colleagues. No real friendships or social interactions the way a shared working space provides.
- Loneliness in waiting for a sign – any sign – that things are going to be alright.
On doubt and vulnerability:
- Everyone else has had their hearts broken and are now guarding themselves. I wish I had felt that pain too, so that I would be in the same space right now, instead of feeling so vulnerable.
- Have I made enough space for the grief of the loss of little things?
- Am I looking at the silver lining, or am I spreading toxic positivity?
- I’m doing all this self-work, I wish I would get some reward for this!
Reflections:
- What privileges am I ignoring when I compare my progress with theirs?
- How will posterity treat us? What space will 2020 have in the grand scheme of our lives? Will this be a defining year?
- Are we in a Lost Generation kind of period – disoriented, wandering, directionless?
Hope:
- Will the Roaring 20s come for us too? Are we going to be resilient and Carpe Diem after this?
- I tried more things this year than I ever have before! Who knew I had it in me, huh?
- In losing control over planning our lives, we focused on ourselves instead of the world and created moments that probably (hopefully) led to growth
- In a year of fog, we looked for lighthouses, and found sparks of light from fireflies
- Hope that this year, we’ve been planted, and we will see more visible growth soon enough
It feels like an oddity that each year, we are willing to undertake transformations overnight, despite knowing the kind of toll it takes. It might be resolutions, or intentions, or minor changes, but we yearn for the accountability and structure that a new calendar year brings, even though very few of us actually stick to it. Despite the guilt or frustration it causes, we are willing to put ourselves out there over and over again and celebrate the new year, and embrace the fresh start. There’s a curious comfort in the knowledge that we are willing to believe in ourselves again, and give ourselves another chance.
On 31st Dec 2019, I remember deciding: 2020 is the end of this decade, 2021 is the start of the new one, so I’ll save my excitement for then. Let 2020 be the period of transition for the new decade! (I’m surprised at how that worked out – amidst everyone cancelling this year, I felt a little bit at ease). At the beginning of the pandemic, when we were getting adjusted to wearing masks, I wondered how long it would take to get acclimatized to it, and decided: the day that people in our dreams are also wearing masks, we know it’s a part of our lives, because our subconscious has absorbed it too. (That hasn’t happened yet, thankfully enough)? At the end of 2020, I’m not filled with wonder or great expectations for 2021, but with a steady faith in our ability to deal with whatever comes our way. That feels enough for now. Hi New year, you have my very current self to deal with.
*Massive sigh*
Past the Racket 