New Year, New Me: Reflections on Rebirth

I’ve been away from home, so I’ve written little bits of this post in all kinds of cemeteries (see Cemetery Thoughts: an Introduction for my definition). My cemeteries this time include the floor of an office-turned-guest-room, multiple airports, Seattle’s Lake View cemetery, the Capitol Hill Trader Joe’s parking lot, Viretta Park— where Kurt Cobain used to write, and, of course, in the backseat of a rental car. I took my roses all over Washington and left them in memoriam. All of those hours in the car allowed for some much-needed time to think. How simply self-reflection comes in the winter when the world is welcoming it, when it reminds me of a song; four in the morning, the end of December…

The dawning of a new year impresses a higher concentration of self-reflection upon us. I was originally planning to post this on New Year’s, but fuck it. Life is a journey and reflections and revelations happen when they happen, which is often days before or weeks after whatever event is supposed to represent them. New Year’s is a funny time. There is a great amount of societal pressure built up on it— when, after all, it's just a day. Any given day could be New Year’s Day if you measure your time on your own terms. There doesn't have to be a ball dropping in Times Square for you to recount memories from the past 365 days, or for you to set a new goal for yourself. We all know it’s easier to carry out new pursuits when it doesn't have the weight of an entire year on it, anyway. The foundations of success are laid when you wake up on a random morning in April and decide to spend 15 minutes a day on Duolingo or go on two runs a week and just see where it takes you— which will inevitably be farther than what you think. Rejoice! Change can happen whenever you want it to and you are the one in control of it. 

At this time of year, you can't leave the house (or, god forbid, open an app) without hearing or seeing the words “new year, new me.” I mean, to each their own, but it’s never been a sentiment that I’ve interpreted as being flexible or open-minded. I’m far more drawn to the idea of a constant cycle of birth, life, death, and rebirth. Obviously, for all of us, there is a significant occasion on which we are born. It's the time, date, and location we all put in our astrology charts. But can you recall how many times you've died, even if you are far from the final death? It comes so violently at times, but so easily at others, especially when it's unexpected. There is not always pain in this upheaval; it can even be a welcome release. There are past selves, versions of me who have died, those who would send me on my hands and knees, gouging my paint-chipped fingernails into the earth, throwing fistfuls of dirt and cursing the ground and sky just to try and get them back. There are other past selves as well; when they are laid to rest and I can breathe again and say “Thank god. She doesn't have to fight anymore. She can rest here and I can bring her flowers, and care for her grave, and move on in her place.” Regardless of how easy or difficult it is to let go of any number of versions of the self, they’re still getting buried side by side. 

There is a relationship between rebirth and realization. You do not always know when you are reborn; you may wander around in your own life, feeling in-between two things that you can’t recognize or name. When it dawns on you that you have been reborn, that you are not the person you used to be, you shed that veiled haze of confusion, the one that’s left behind from the dead version of you, thinking it's still alive. The ghost that inhibited you before the realization passes over, fades away, and you can come into yourself again and carry on. This is all mostly metaphorical, of course. I figure it looks and feels different for everyone. Even so, we are always looking for ways to carry on, ways that are faster, easier, and less alone. It takes many lives, I’ve begun to notice: picking up where one self left off and changing again when who you are no longer suits you; when one self must valiantly perish so a new self can come in and pick up the torch. Don't worry because you aren’t in it alone. You’ll make it there. It doesn't always take a year. You are not the person you were last month, two months ago, six months ago, and so on. It is a comfort. It is a blessing for you to be who you are now, and to know that another version of you is on the way. You cannot go back to who you were, just like you cannot go back to the good times that have come and gone, but more are coming. Take comfort, because more good times are coming to you now. It’s just like how those times you want to go back to were coming your way back then, back when you didn’t yet know it. Take comfort.

I was reborn recently, if you’ve been wondering. “How wonderful,” you say, “congratulations.” Thank you, thank you, now moving on, back to Washington, where I had the freedom to become acquainted with my new self. The holidays have always been difficult for me, and being around my extended family for a week usually knocks me out so hard that I typically spend the month of January crawling through a depressive episode. None of that now. This time I can enjoy the last soft stretch of days until the end of the year, which has wondrously lined up with my brand-new self discovering who I am and what I’m going to do with the time that I have. I have to say, I love it here. It’s been four years since I went on a real trip, or a vacation, though that doesn’t quite feel like the right word. It’s more of a much-needed period of adjustment doubling as a personal passage; something that was meant to be. This trip alone feels like a call to commemorate. Anyways, I love it here. I never want to leave. The city, fresh off the water, bordered by mountains and bursting with life, creates an uninterrupted serenity. I love the towering trees and hills, the sight of which makes it impossible for one to feel alone. I love the cloudy skies, even when I can’t feel my hands because the freezing rain has soaked through my lace gloves. What a beautiful place it is to realize that I have been reborn, and to get to know the person I am now with the elation of exploration.

Of course, discovery starts with remembering. It is important never to forget the trials you’ve faced and the people you’ve been so that the path you’re on remains fairly well-outlined. From remembrance comes reflection. It’s amazing how thoroughly you can reflect on a period of time when you’re not desperately wishing for it to be over. Reflection nourishes the reborn. It's amazing how well you can get to know yourself when you’re hundreds of miles from home and are surrounded by friends who know you better than you think they do, especially when they also love you enough to prepare homemade English muffins for breakfast. I don’t know who I am yet, but it’s the presence of friends that gives me a glimpse into the person I want to be all the time. That’s just how it happens, too. I’ll discover that I'm not always grumpy in the morning as long as I'm around the right people (again, English muffins), or I’ll spend three hours in the car with someone else without running out of things to say to each other, and I think to myself, “god, I wish it could be like this all of the time. I wish I could be the person I am now all of the time.” Isn’t it beautiful that your friends get to see that version of you so often? Too much time alone and it's easy to forget who you are. It may feel like who we are on our best days in the best company in the environment most suited to us is far away, but no matter who you are when you’re alone, that irresistible version of yourself is the one that never dies no matter how many cycles of death and life and death and rebirth you go through. That version of you is out there right now, dancing in your friends’ recollections of you. And I’m chasing that version of me. Now that I know it’s there, I want to make it last. 

I'm home now (a funny word— home. Always something alien about it) and of course, my heart is aching for the state of Washington. But this will be one of the times I let it ache instead of trying to push the feeling away. After all, my heart wouldn't hurt half as much if I hadn't been so happy. The reminder is enough to conjure up half a smile. I will carry with me into the new year the understanding that you cannot go back to the way things used to be at certain times, because you are not always meant to. This only means that there will be more times ahead to look forward to. There are big things ahead for my new self. My most recently buried self got a lot done, as did all the other ones who made this past year happen. I’m really proud of them; proud of me— if I have to say it (or if I can’t go dividing myself up into a multitude of little souls every time I experience radical growth.) I accomplished some things this year that I had been working towards for a very long time, such as transferring schools, getting a job that doesn’t make me want to scream whenever I clock in, and relentlessly pursuing my hobbies regardless of my level of success. I also had some experiences that I never could have expected, like joining a writing group and founding another, doing something for fun that I would typically never do (and the world didn’t end because of it), and finding so many people that I want to pursue friendships with. What was inconceivable for some of my past selves has now become my current self’s status quo. I’m sure the same thing will keep happening. Of course, there were a lot of other changes, some not so good ones. Such is the way of life. But I would run out of paper to write on if I documented all of my disasters— or even half of them. I won't recount them at this moment. Misery has its time and place and is not suited to the here and now. There will be plenty of time to get back to it later. Tranquility is so rare for me, it's my duty to make it last. 

As much cynicism as I hold towards the whole “new year, new me” business, I can see that’s how my situation is turning out, so I might as well embrace it. My resolutions, not for the year, but for my current self, are to uphold my values and boundaries despite sometimes feeling ridiculous for doing so (and to stand by the fact that protecting myself is never ridiculous), to break out of my isolation more often and to keep working towards being that person I transform into when I’m around my friends, and, even though I’m late with it— to learn how to drive. There is always time to decide new things to do and new things to be, regardless of the calendar date. Be reborn. Believe that things get better, even if it's for just enough time to allow you to face your everyday life with a bit more lightness, with one more thing to hold on to when you're worn down from enduring. Live a hundred lives in the span of a few months, and be reborn again.