It’s a new year, people all over the world take are taking stock of their past 365 days and deciding from there what their next 365 should be. Me, I’ve had a whirlwind of a week since last Friday, when I was informed that my company’s owners had chosen to let me go. By Monday, I had mostly come to terms with the knowledge and was comforting my friends who were stunned by what they had just been told. Still feeling the remnants of the cold I had been given for Christmas, I found a party dress in the closet and my long-unused stash of sparkly makeup, and headed out to a girlfriend’s apartment for a casual New Years Eve shindig, humming The Zombies’ “This will be our year” and carrying a bottle of champagne.
I told myself I’ll refuse to look miserable, that I want to ring in the New Year lookin’ hot, with a sexy dress and great friends and comfortable shoes. And frankly I’m not miserable. I was miserable in my job, and now I’m free of all that.
We drank, snacked, danced, enjoyed a midnight champagne toast before crawling out the window onto the roof to watch fireworks, we played silly board games and got a little too wasted and stayed a little too late. At the entrance to the subway I stood kissing a boy before going home to crawl into my bed and pray the hangover would be minor.
For all that I should be upset about being newly unemployed yet again, for all the crippling self-doubt that rears up on a regular basis (maybe even daily), I have hope today. That is the gift I woke up with, my happy new year. I have hope that I will have an even better job, where I will be happier and better paid, or at least far less annoyed on a daily basis. I have hope that people still like to kiss me and that many more will wish to do so over the coming weeks and months. Ironically, in the job I worked up to this week, I didn’t have that hope, and I only got it back when they fired me. (Jerks. I poop on their heads!)
So really, I’m better today than I was yesterday, than I was last year. And that’s a pretty great place to be.