I am a superstitious freak sometimes.
I don't fear the things you'd normally think of. A propped ladder is like a dare for me to walk under it. When black cats cross my path, I get excited to see what the kitty will do next. And Friday the 13th is often a little holiday for me, especially when it happens to coincide with my elder son's birthday.
But New Year's Eve, in particular, freaks me the hell out. There's something about the day or so surrounding the marking of the new year that seems to set the tone for the 364 days that follow. If it's a good night and following day, the year generally goes well. If it's harrowing—a car wreck with friends or a two-hundred-mile distance in the middle of a strained marriage—the rest of the year always seems to follow suit.
It's been years since I had a good New Year's Eve. I remember 1992, when DH and I were first dating again. That kiss was memorable and fantastic, on the side of the road in Birmingham, when we stopped just to make sure we got the kiss in. 2000 was strange with him working overnight because of Y2K fears, but he'd come home just to kiss me. I spent the rest of the night shooting fireworks with my cousins.
My last two New Years' with DH were strained, to say the least. I knew 2011 was possibly going to be our last, and I'd hoped for that perfect midnight moment. I did get the kiss, with our children nearby, but I think I knew then that we were over.
After everything I'd been through over the last year-and-a-half, I wanted 2013 to end on a bright note. And there's a new guy in my life (more on that later), so I was especially hopeful to end the most hellacious year of my life with a new beginning.
It wasn't to be.
Due to circumstances outside of my control, I didn't get to kiss Katniss (that's his nickname—again, more later) at midnight. When I knew it wasn't going to happen, Boogie Shoes stepped up and invited me down to Savannah to spend the evening with her and her husband, Tiny Dancer.
We ate and drank and laughed and danced and did terrible karaoke. When midnight came, I found myself with great friends, old and new, happy and laughing and all too boisterous. My drive back to Atlanta the next day was filled with hours of car karaoke, of every happy song I could find on my almost-filled iPod.
In the end, and the beginning, I set the tone for my new year on my terms, doing exactly what I wanted to do. And I was happy.
I struggled for the last few days with what I should blog next. I knew I hadn't written anything for public consumption in weeks, which is uncharacteristic. Everything I wanted to write about had to do with the manifestation of forward movement in my life. But I've been afraid to talk about it for fear that I might somehow jinx it. I saw it happen when I surreptitiously wrote about struggles with DH. It happened again, plainly, when I wrote about Bounder coming into my life and falling in love again.
I know in my head that my saying these things out loud, laying them out in this public forum, should have absolutely no bearing on whether or not they succeed. But it always seems to work that way, that when I talk about good things, they go awry.
Maybe it's some fucked up sense of self-fulfilling prophecy, that I somehow screw it up by acknowledging it. If it's no longer my little secret, do I subconsciously thwart my own desire to achieve whatever it is I'm attempting? Is it that screwed up sense of Fate that I believe in so wholeheartedly, punishing me for even trying to accept something good in my life?
I don't know.
What I do know is that it's an ingrained part of who I am to be open about the things going on in my life, good and bad. I'm starting back to school next week, to complete a degree in Paralegal Studies and be better able to care for myself and my children in the aftermath of divorce. I am writing, albeit not so doggedly as I have before. I'm also seeing someone new, who means a great deal to me.
More importantly, I am living my life on my terms, still. I can't let my own fears or superstitions get in the way of that. I will continue to use Muchness and Light as an outlet for my ongoing process. I will still be afraid of what happens, no matter how forcefully I agree to take it on.
And at the end of this year, I'll look back as I always do, astounded by what I've accomplished in a relatively short amount of time. And maybe, just maybe, there will be a New Year's kiss to remember. But if there's not, I'll still keep plugging away at being me, because that's the one thing I've got, no matter what.
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