My expectations are low.
No, don’t jump to any conclusions, I’m not being Debbie Downer, I’m not being negative or anything of the sort. I just think we expect too much from a new year.
The anticipation builds as the days of December go by, one after the other after the other. All we can think about (hope for) is how much better the next year will be. Should be. Must be. Will surely be. We keep telling ourselves and everyone we talk to that “next year will be better.” We really believe it. We console ourselves with it and look forward to the ball dropping at midnight like an addict looks forward to more drugs. It makes the crap we’re going through bearable.
And then the new year kicks the shit out of us. It’s actually the case most years, but the last couple have certainly proven that in spades.
So I have finally come to the conclusion that maybe it’s unfair to put that kind of pressure on a new year. We do the same thing with ourselves, with all those resolutions we make every year. Why do we do that? Do you get yours done? I don’t.
I found a great quote the other day about resolutions. It made me laugh because it’s so true:
My 2022 New Year’s resolution is to finish all my craft projects from 2021 that I should have done in 2020 after I started them in 2019 after buying the supplies in 2018.Audrey Loves Paris
So I’ve given it up, packed it in. I never was much of a New Years Eve partier anyway. The whole bacchanal thing has never appealed to me. Neither has the inevitable vomiting the next day. But I have always ended the year with the obligatory great expectations (no, not the book, I’m not that pathetic). For the coming year.
Until this year.
I will say good-bye to 2020, grateful I survived it and grateful those I love and care about survived it. I will not look back. I will head into 2022 purposefully and with intention. I will do the best I can and be the best I can.
I wish the same for you.
As for anything else, 2022 will be what 2022 will be. We’ll have 365 days to figure it out.