You Didn’t Do The Load…It’s Okay

Happy New Year!

*Cues the unicorns and glitter*

Now that that’s out of the way, here’s your permission slip. Here’s me tugging away your shame because you didn’t do the load before the ball dropped, and suddenly it was 12 a.m., ushering in the New Year.

…Did you die?
Your limbs are still intact.
The axis is still spinning.
And you’re free to try again another day.

One thing I had to remind my nervous system, especially when reflecting on past New Year’s Eve “rituals,” is this: it can still be business as usual even if your home wasn’t spick-and-span, in tip-top shape before that ten-second countdown.

Some rituals, old wives’ tales, and culture-based customs—eating black-eyed peas and collard greens, grapes under the table, stuffing money in your pocket before the clock strikes twelve—are traditions rooted in the belief that they manifest good luck and good energy. Or at least, the pursuit of it.

To each their own (I have my own little traditions too).

But placing that much pressure on New Year’s expectations should require us to account for the nervous system's real-life capacity. In the same vein, it’s a lie that existing in your own skin—doing nothing—means you’re falling behind.

I had to look around more than once for the ticking clock I imagined in my head—the one convincing me I was running out of time. The healthiest thing I believe I did, on a whim—like the most thrilling and exciting thing while resting from work—was doing…absolutely…nothing. I allowed myself to become one with my body and simply sit in it.

I told my psychiatrist the moment I knew I needed a reality check and some assistance was when I felt restless on vacation. Guilty for taking time for myself. Like, what the fuck?

So I started asking myself: what now? How do I live with this truth without turning it into another “rule”?

Be honest, that was what kept floating through my mind. I refuse to fake that making things feel more urgent will somehow move me closer to understanding—or validating—my self-worth as proof.

No more performances of “fresh starts.”
No faking your reality.

Just pure honesty—meeting yourself where you are this year. With the load of laundry. With the grapes, the pocket change, the plate of black-eyed peas, and collard greens.

Just…arrive. That’s enough.

Until next time,
Jenn