2019 was one of the best years of my life. It may only qualify for that distinction due to lack of competition from the other years, but it is still true. And I’m proud of myself for genuinely feeling that it was a good year even though I gained a considerable amount of weight, something that would once have bothered me to no end. But the path to plumpness was paved with such good food that I cannot fully regret it, so I tell myself that of course I gained weight, because 2019 was the year I Gave Birth To Myself.
By that I mean that it was an exciting, transformative year and in no way intend to diminish my mother’s contribution to my actual birth.
I have already lost some of the weight because I start thinking about the next year in November and actually start on my resolutions then. So my sister felt freer to tell me her impression of me at my heaviest after it had passed. “You even gained weight on your lips,” she whispered with alarm. I don’t think this is true, but someone did give me an odd look and say, “Why do you look like you just made out with a vacuum cleaner?” and I guarantee the reason was not that I had just made out with a vacuum cleaner.
New Year’s Resolution #1: Never reach a point in this year or any other so low that I develop a romantic interest in household appliances. Do not make eyes at the pink mechanical sweeper I bought just because it was pretty.
2019 was illuminating because I lost several people, both literally and in the sense that I lost what I wanted them to mean to me. It’s a good way to learn about yourself. That’s not a recommendation you have to take, though, because life will probably force it down your throat regardless of what you do.
It hurts but I find a certain satisfaction in it, because once it happens a few times, you realize that you actually will be okay. That it can happen again, and it will be fine then too. I let people ruin my opinion of them now when once I thought that was a terrible tragedy. I mean why should I avoid the pain when my ability to allow joy into my life can never exceed my willingness to allow in sadness?
Pain is an incredible motivator. The worse you feel, the more unbearable your situation becomes, forcing you to change. This is what I call Realistic Optimism. Now when I meet new people, I don’t think, “What’s going to end up being the matter with you?” because that would be negative. Instead I say, “What delightful new hobby will I take up to cope with the grief and despair you have in store for me? Could you be the one who pushes me to spin wool like I’ve been planning for the past four years?”
New Year’s Resolution #2: Find someone who fills me with a heartache so agonizing that it can only be expressed through song, as I would love to get back to playing the piano.
My main hope for 2020 is to be surprised (in a good way), which is not something you can plan for yourself without ruining the surprise, so I don’t have a long list of resolutions. Also, setting the bar low for yourself is an act of revolt against capitalism. I do, however, want to write more, and I would like the courage to “decompartmentalize” this part of myself. I realized recently that it does not make sense to write a blog, want people to read it, and then deliberately hide it from everyone in my life. I have yet to act on this realization, but it’s in the works and expected to be implemented by 2050.
New Year’s Resolution #3: Try to reach a place in life where my mother can find my blog and neither of us will cry.
Happy New Year, everyone.
Half-Blood Kuwaiti 