Everything in its right place

I will bleed for better reasons this year. What a seemingly harsh start to the new year, but nevertheless bloodshed is inevitable every year, whether in the form of loss or change or my tears. Regardless, I have promised myself this year that I will bleed for better reasons. 

Though, I have not quite defined what is considered a “better” reason. The new year always brings about a pressure to become someone new, as if the clock striking midnight suddenly gives you the power to shed a layer of yourself that you have been growing into for the past decade. Unfortunately for us, change does not offer that quick of a reprieve. Another year has passed; a lot of things are ending, and a lot of things are beginning. I am still learning how to welcome it all without holding resentment under my tongue. 

In my dreams, I hear a voice telling me to give up my attachments. Unsheath your claws and loosen your grip on all that you have endured in the past year. Learn to carry these lessons on your back, not as if they are weights but rather wings to help you through this time of inescapable change. And if you missed a day, there will always be the next. And if you missed the year, don’t worry. The hills aren’t going anywhere, and the sun will continue to rise, and you will never be late arriving to your own life.

So here it is, a new year, a descriptor devised by humans just to conceptualize the passing of time in a way to feel stable ground under our feet. Some may see it as frivolous to denote our humanity with such rigid boundaries, but I think it sweet that we have such optimism for a fresh start, a glimmer of hope for some. I do not have fixed goals this year. I do not want to delineate my accomplishments by metrics, the pressure of nothing but my own expectations bearing down on me. Instead, this year, I want to wash more dishes. I want to have friends over for drinks and host dinner parties and try out new recipes. I want my kitchen to be filled with dirty plates and empty wine glasses and laughter that echoes into the next morning.

This year, I want to waste more time. I want to indulge in naps when I can, dreaming of foreign cities and baked goods and people I shouldn’t be dreaming about. I want to lay on the floor of my bedroom and listen to music, maybe the same song over and over again, or maybe an album in full without skipping. I want to read at the park, except I’m not really reading because I can’t help but watch the dogs play with each other and wonder which cloud that couple is looking at. I want to spend all day walking through the mall, looking into every window and admiring that floor-length gown, envisioning a gala I will never attend. I will smell every candle until my olfactory receptors wither away. I want to take a long bath, so long until the candles have melted all the way down and my fingers become prunes. 

This year, I want to save less. I will light my candlesticks every night instead of waiting for an occasion and enjoy the flicker of its wick as I read by the fire. I will wear my favorite perfume every day instead of saving it for the next date night. I will pop open the bottle of good red wine to celebrate my smallest of wins or just to enjoy with my dinner. I will indulge in the expensive butter and the fancy cheese and the decadent dessert because life is too short not to enjoy the best meal I will ever have, again and again. I will treat myself to that trinket from the thrift store and will wear my favorite shirt even when I am just lounging about in my apartment. 

There are a few things in life, a few ideas that exist, that are so beautiful, they hurt. Swimming in the ocean while it rains, listening to a song repeatedly just for that one bridge, the sun on your face on a cold winter day, a hug from your mom, a hot cup of tea in any season. There are some things, for unexplainable reasons, that we find a simple, childlike joy in. For me, it’s this idea of a fresh start. It does not always have to come at the close of a year passed, but the collective renewed prospect of something good on the horizon makes me giddy. I let myself entertain this feeling, let myself spoil in these thoughts delightfully. We are on the precipice of something big, I tell myself every year. True or not, I believe it, every year. 

I will bleed for better reasons this year. That is my goal. I will allow myself to be happy before I have fixed everything. I will drop my old bricks; I refuse to continue building the same house when it has not served me, time and time again. I will no longer ask myself if I deserve something. I will no longer ask myself if I am worthy of something. Instead, I will ask myself if I want because after all, that’s all that truly matters.