Even before November ended I knew December was going to be a challenge. It was stuffed full of parties, friend visits, adventures and deadlines. I was also trying to set myself up well to begin the New Year with the projects and intentions in place, beginning the habits that will carry me through.
December ended up being marked more by moments than momentum. For a girl who enjoys isolation, this month was an incredibly joyous departure filled with so many loved ones – I got TWO besties this month and lots of time with both while seeing great shows.
Wicked, The Nutcracker, Childish Gambino, Comedy – it’s all better shared. That wasn’t necessarily something I realized until this year. Shared experiences hadn’t much been on my radar. I’ve gone all over the globe by myself. I have season tickets for one. If I really want to see an opening, try a restaurant or hike a new trail, it seldom occurred to me to invite someone along. Weird, I know, but mostly I had focused on my experience and learning about another person’s experience. Shared experience somehow never filtered into what I saw as your experience and my experience. Not to get too meta, but even in a shared experience it’s still yours alone and mine alone…
That oddity clicked with me most in December. I spent so much time and effort cultivating shared experience, which drastically deepened my relationships – relationships that had already been significant, loving and joyful – that the amount of memories that flowed back and forth between my friends and I were overwhelming at times. Many of them are friendships that have spanned a decade plus. If I’m being honest, those less than 10 years are the rarity.
To have walked out so much life together – marriage, divorce, children, rehab, debt, career highs and lows, cancer, death, prison, fame, homelessness, infidelity, depression – is mind boggling, insanely humbling. From that, my INTJ brain seemed to think that seeing each other through individual experience was relationship building enough. That, somehow all of that is what I thought friendship was about, and it is, but also just a meal or a hike. Also a giant adventure across country, seeing a show or reading the same book together. Sometimes it’s the simple stuff that slips right past me.
Speaking of books, December was no slouch. 20 books rounded out the year to make 106 total reads. Michelle Obama’s Becoming is everything and more than what you’ve heard. I’m not a crier, but dear God, there was a tear jerker every chapter. Juxtaposed was All American Boys by Jason Reynolds – which, to re-state from my year end book review, EVERYONE needs to read him. These critical American stories rose highest to my must read piles this year, but I also prioritized some “fresh start” books like The Year of Less and You Are a Badass which both reaffirmed many of my “less is more mantras” of the past several years.
Frankly it was heartbreaking to watch so many friends cripple under the weight of expectation this month. Expectation… you know, that word isn’t scary to me. That word came out of the mouth of everyone I watched crumble though… Like it was a bad word. Like it was a chain around their waist. Like it was a pair of hands around their throat… I gotta tell you, if that’s how you feel, you’re doing it wrong. That’s another blog entirely, but expectations aren’t something put upon you – they’re what you lay down.
With that, my expectations of the year to come are of celebration, friendship, gratitude, style and realized dreams. New Years Eve was rather out of character for me, but very much in context of my year. It was very “extra” and began with dinner at a whiskey club, which actually is quite me, with one of my dearest friends, who also had much to celebrate about this year. Afterwards we rang in the New Year at the Roosevelt, specifically the Speakeasy Bowling Alley area, which made the whole thing far more Gatsby than I could have ever dreamed up myself.
December was grand. It was a proper finish to a year I’ll dive into more, but… I’m so very thankful for what each month gave me this year, and that I planted these seeds of journaling to remember it all. What a life I’ve been given. Thank you for being in it and allowing me into yours.
