SchizoGymnast
Warlock
- May 28, 2024
- 774
I have always struggle with it. I used to hate it and I used to mock people who celebrated it. It's just another day, I thought.
Now, I can't speak for anyone else. But for me, deep down, despite what I said, the opposite was true. It was not just any other day. It was my least favorite day because it was THE day that forcibly reminded me that time was moving forward without me. I was always interested in history and didn't like how history and its people were forgotten. I was behind my peers in all my milestones. I was constantly told to grow up. I was told to forgive all the wrongs done to me while the perpetrators continued as though nothing happened. The past wasn't allowed to exist, to be mourned, or celebrated, or remembered. And New Year's was proof of that.
It didn't help that I have been suicidal from the age of 11 and had a fixation with death from an even young age. My mom used to watch Law and Order SVU in front of me when I was four and I was reading fictional books with portrayals of voodoo when I was seven. Maybe it's not surprising that I expected to be murdered at 17 or die of tuberculosis or leukemia or insert tragic fate here. Always at a young age. Me living a normal lifespan was unfathomable. So I went on all kinds of adventures. Spent all my money. Didn't care much about finishing college. I wasn't going to be around much longer anyway, right?
But I wasn't murdered at 17. I didn't die by suicide at 25. I didn't die of leukemia at 35. So far, I am actually expected to live a normal lifespan. Now I have a new problem. I lived all this time and I have no money, no achievements, no direction, nothing. I'm left with the feeling that I've wasted my life, and New Year's awakens feelings of bitterness. And exhaustion. Because I have nothing, I spend my year struggling to stay alive, and I don't have the energy to be bothered with celebrating anything. I celebrate the moment I crawl into bed. That's it. Plus, when you get older, you are increasingly reminded of all the people and pets you loved that are no longer here to celebrate new year's with you, and you start the grieving process all over again.
At one point, NYE was actually one of my preferred suicide dates. I would be alone in my darkened studio apartment downtown with an alcoholic drink. Traffic is humming and the neon lights are ablaze interrupting the darkness within. Once the clock strikes midnight, it's time for fentanyl. Or so I thought.
But a few years back, in spite of my misgivings, I have come to absolutely love new year's. It's one of the three holidays that I ride or die for. The other two are Halloween and 4th of July. Anyway, I go all out with the decorations and the makeup and the food. I will post later about my party plans tonight in the recovery section if you are interested. For now, I'll sum up my attitude by saying I'm impressed with myself for still being alive. I feel privileged that I "made it" another year and I have another year to love people and do fun things. To fix things I got wrong. Even if I ctb this year, or get diagnosed with a terminal illness this year, I was given an opportunity to go out the "right" way, on my own terms, as opposed to suddenly. With unfinished business and regrets.
Lastly, I just happen to be of the belief that special occasions don't just arise, they are made. If I don't celebrate something, just a little bit, the idea that my life is grey will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
If you're celebrating tonight, I invite you to join me, but if you are not, for whatever reason, I see you. Escape into your fantasy. Sleep to the sound of falling rain. Wake up to the big bad world when you are ready. And remember, time isn't real.
Now, I can't speak for anyone else. But for me, deep down, despite what I said, the opposite was true. It was not just any other day. It was my least favorite day because it was THE day that forcibly reminded me that time was moving forward without me. I was always interested in history and didn't like how history and its people were forgotten. I was behind my peers in all my milestones. I was constantly told to grow up. I was told to forgive all the wrongs done to me while the perpetrators continued as though nothing happened. The past wasn't allowed to exist, to be mourned, or celebrated, or remembered. And New Year's was proof of that.
It didn't help that I have been suicidal from the age of 11 and had a fixation with death from an even young age. My mom used to watch Law and Order SVU in front of me when I was four and I was reading fictional books with portrayals of voodoo when I was seven. Maybe it's not surprising that I expected to be murdered at 17 or die of tuberculosis or leukemia or insert tragic fate here. Always at a young age. Me living a normal lifespan was unfathomable. So I went on all kinds of adventures. Spent all my money. Didn't care much about finishing college. I wasn't going to be around much longer anyway, right?
But I wasn't murdered at 17. I didn't die by suicide at 25. I didn't die of leukemia at 35. So far, I am actually expected to live a normal lifespan. Now I have a new problem. I lived all this time and I have no money, no achievements, no direction, nothing. I'm left with the feeling that I've wasted my life, and New Year's awakens feelings of bitterness. And exhaustion. Because I have nothing, I spend my year struggling to stay alive, and I don't have the energy to be bothered with celebrating anything. I celebrate the moment I crawl into bed. That's it. Plus, when you get older, you are increasingly reminded of all the people and pets you loved that are no longer here to celebrate new year's with you, and you start the grieving process all over again.
At one point, NYE was actually one of my preferred suicide dates. I would be alone in my darkened studio apartment downtown with an alcoholic drink. Traffic is humming and the neon lights are ablaze interrupting the darkness within. Once the clock strikes midnight, it's time for fentanyl. Or so I thought.
But a few years back, in spite of my misgivings, I have come to absolutely love new year's. It's one of the three holidays that I ride or die for. The other two are Halloween and 4th of July. Anyway, I go all out with the decorations and the makeup and the food. I will post later about my party plans tonight in the recovery section if you are interested. For now, I'll sum up my attitude by saying I'm impressed with myself for still being alive. I feel privileged that I "made it" another year and I have another year to love people and do fun things. To fix things I got wrong. Even if I ctb this year, or get diagnosed with a terminal illness this year, I was given an opportunity to go out the "right" way, on my own terms, as opposed to suddenly. With unfinished business and regrets.
Lastly, I just happen to be of the belief that special occasions don't just arise, they are made. If I don't celebrate something, just a little bit, the idea that my life is grey will be a self-fulfilling prophecy.
If you're celebrating tonight, I invite you to join me, but if you are not, for whatever reason, I see you. Escape into your fantasy. Sleep to the sound of falling rain. Wake up to the big bad world when you are ready. And remember, time isn't real.
