We go through the motions, I think, as we shift from one year to another. There is little to celebrate outside of the personal, and when we are self-reflexive about our privilege, the middle class guilt can only kick in. We refrain from posting food photos. We keep from the usual displays of celebration. We stay distant from the predisposition to overshare on social media.
There are a multitude of reasons, of course, to tell the world the year was good for you. And gratefulness is a good thing. For some of us though, it almost feels excessive to put it on display. This is not to question what others are doing, as it is to lean into why it is that this shift from 2023 to 2024 has demanded differently of the self. It isn’t why has it been hard to celebrate, but how it’s been difficult to put that on display. It isn’t about why there is a refusal to flex, as it is about how this denial of the reflex to share speaks to a specific kind of processing of the present.
That this sensing of the act of biting one’s tongue, almost as if (and ironically) in resistance, is happening on the first month of a new year is expected — what better time to find these words than in preparation for how we re-live the coming year?