An unpopular opinion of mine- I have long hated New Year’s Eve. While other people celebrate by raising glasses of champagne in sparkly dresses, New Year’s Eve is a source of stress for me because of the pressure I associate with it. As the year closes and people boast accomplishments and milestones I always feel behind, I reflect on the year and no matter how much or little I have done I feel inadequate. In my mind, the moment where one year switches into the next- that midnight celebration- cements the previous 12 months in eternity. As time naturally passes I do not stress about this certainty in the way I do in the last week of December, it is a week of overwhelming guilt: I never feel I’m where I’m supposed to be or who I am supposed to be. I end the year attacking myself for not trying harder to become who I imagine I could be.
Welcoming 2020 feels like previous New Year’s Eves on steroids.
Last year I tried to avoid all self-reflection, I tried to stay away from harassing myself for inadequacy. However, this year self reflection feels unavoidable. After seeing post after post on Instagram of people looking back at their decades it is hard not to do the same, subsequently making it near impossible not to become overly critical of the closing of this 10 year chapter. But upon sitting and really thinking about the decade, my mind shifted from looking at what I have or haven’t done, accomplished or not accomplished, and to who I was at the beginning, how that shifted throughout, and who I am now as I stare towards the next ten years.
This decade was filled with momentous milestones. At the start, I was only 10 years old. I was in fifth grade and thought plaid mini skirts from Justice were the peak of fashion. At the close of this decade, while I still have an affinity for the plaid mini, I am 20, a Junior in college, and have become a very different person than that fifth grader.
This decade encapsulated so many firsts that taught me about myself, others, and how I relate to the world. Each new experience of the decade marked my shift from childhood to being a young adult. In reflection, I have realized that it is hard to remember who I was when I have lost touch with so many versions of myself, but even odder to come to see that I am, at my core, still incredibly similar to that person that seems so far away.
Most of the wants and aspirations I had at the beginning of the decade have changed. My 10 year old dream to be a heart surgeon has been replaced by an inability to even picture myself in a biology class. Then, I was on the swim team and eager to try new sports, unaware of how terrible I would be at basketball. I was always the shortest person in every group and did not foresee being called tall today as a possibility. But I gaze into a mirror as I reflect on my overly high ambitions, insecurities, fears, and desires. My perfectionist tendencies at 10 meant stellar poster boards, not manifestations into mental illnesses. And yet, the underlying attributes and intentions are one in the same.
As I went through middle school I question what I thought mattered, the drama I started, and preppy bows on my shirts. But my doubts of anyone actually liking me remained consistent, a less powerful but still prevalent voice in my mind today. Every year of high school seems like a separate entity of a person. I can pinpoint my phases of styles and friends, of views and opinions, and events that coincided. It is these different people I feel furthest from, as I am unable to comprehend some of the decisions I made or justify actions I took with others. But my fear of failure throughout those years and constant comparison to others still haunts me daily.
It is easy to judge who I was in specific years when I feel so removed and hard to accept those people as me. I like to think I was able to shed some of those versions of myself when I started my new chapter of college. And can see even within three years I have shed more parts of myself and developed new ones. I don’t always like who I used to be or who I am now, and constantly analyze if I like who I want to become. I recognize how wrong I have been, the weight of mistakes I’ve made, but also how much I have grown.
The most important growth from this decade is being able to look at who I thought I wanted to be then and who I want to be now. It is unclear what I’ll do, who I’ll remain close to, what I’ll desire, and who I will be. But one thing I want to enter this new decade focused on is accepting that. I spend New Year’s Eve stressing and crying about my failure because I cannot accept who I was the previous year, always wanting to be and do more. I am unable to accept my own imperfection. I am slowly coming to realize (about 20 years too late) that I will never eliminate the imperfection in my character and embracing it is my only option. Accepting that what I have done is what I have done and it does not need to be more or less than that is crucial to my survival in the next decade. Accepting my plans may not become my life and not having a plan does not mean I have failed at life. Accepting that simply by living it is not possible to fail at life and accepting that failure is a valuable part of existing. I am not sure who I will be, but I am sure I will keep growing, messing up, reflecting, changing, and accepting whoever that person may be.