Nicki: Dad is at the Hospital.
Me: Thank God. He said that he was going to wait it out. Like he couldn’t stand without wanting to puke it hurt so bad.
Nicki: What did he do to his knee anyways?
Me: He was moving shingles last week bitch, bitch, bills, and then screwed it up again somehow.
Nicki: So old age and cold. Basically, his bones snapped and we’re going to hell. Wanna go to Jamaica?
Just like every naïve boob on the planet, I used to get really into celebrating New Year’s. To me it was more than just a shit show of booze and confetti, it was celebrating the promise of what was to come; new beginnings.
“Happy New Years!!” I’d slur to a crowd in a bar probably either hours too early or hours too late. Then I’d flash my whale tail and cry because man, I had so much hope for that year.
This was a New Year and a second chance to clean up my act.
Brush those bar floor remnants and ten pounds off buttercup baby, because this is it.
This is your year.
Just like every year was my year.
I’d be armed with resolutions that were going to make me a better person. I was going to go to the gym and stop eating things that had eyeballs and meet the Dalai Lama and lick his left ear lobe to gain inner peace. Those were the resolutions that died before the spring and would haunt me along with every thing else that I failed at in the entire year on December 31st, after my 4th drink when my emotions were unfiltered.
But that’s ok because, “Happy New Years! Look at my thong!”
Tomorrow is January 1st and that means new beginnings!
Oh yes, new beginnings. Let me put down all that I can’t leave behind in 2014 like this soul crushing depression and start over.
Whoop there it is. Reality.
If things sucked in 2014, they will still suck when you hang up your new shiny 2015 calendar in January.
Holy shit, I just turned into my dad, god rest his leg in the MRI machine.
I’ve been listening to everyone this week saying “Good riddance to the worst year ever! This is going to be the best!” and I want to know, did a new calendar make a difference already? Do you feel a renewed sense of hope? A weight lifted?
Because I woke up in 2015 and was miraculously still f*cking depressed. My calendar looks smashing though.
October, November, and December of 2014, were horrendous. Yesterday I ate Ativan because I smell things that don’t exist.
This morning though, my son put me in a headlock. It made me laugh so hard I almost pissed my pyjamas. The sun is out. I have hot coffee. Other than stepping in a puddle of melted snow, it’s a good start to a brand new day.
A new beginning.
I live much differently now then when I did back then. Bipolar disorder is incredibly unpredictable, chronic pain is unpredictable and life itself is unpredictable. It has changed my course over and over and I can’t control that. But I’ve learned that I can control to either push forward and make it better again or to just stand still.
I don’t put all my hopes in a year anymore.
I put my hopes in today and wine in pretty glasses.
Nicki: Dad’s waiting for an X-ray. He’s going to be so miserable.
Me: He’ll be in a good mood once those narcs kick in.
Nicki: Or they’ll make him go nuts.
Me: Let’s pray for the staff! LOL!
Nicki: Nah. *uck them. It’s their turn to deal with his shit. FYI in a recent turn of news, I’m moving to California…it’s warmer there and no retired Canadians. Screw this cold.
Me: Dad’s a cripple, I’m hallucinating smells, you’re banned from Rocky, OMG 2015 is not letting us down. It’s exceeding my pessimistic expectations. I’m dying laughing.
Nicki: Don’t pee yourself meow.
What are your thoughts on New Year’s?
Are you a resolution/word maker?