New Year's Eve Reflection

Written by Bri

from Montana

1 January 2024

<p class="MsoNormal">For many years now, I have had a similar rhythm to my end-of-year processing and evaluating and it’s gone something like this: “This year has been about the same as the one before and nothing really changed for me as usual. I didn’t meet anyone special. Nobody really knows me on an intimate level. I’ve still never been kissed. I wonder if maybe this next year…” with an ever-increasing pang of sadness to that last thought every year. Sadness that kept on getting deeper and more grief laden. Because it never happened. Every year, nothing changed. Nobody appeared in my life to sweep me off my feet. I was still alone. Every. Single. Year. I started to hate New Year’s Eve. For several years in a row, I was at my parent’s house. The rest of the family who had been in for Christmas had already dispersed so it was often just the three of us. We would play scrabble and watch episodes of “Live with Kelly and *insert whichever male co-host of that year*” that my mom had dvr’d in the past week and talk about stuff. Discussion would usually land on my life trajectory and by proxy, the state of my mental health, which for many years I didn’t adequately address or name. I would express grief and loss for yet another year feeling so empty and pointless and generally feeling left behind in life because I wasn’t already married and have kids like other people in their early to mid-thirties. As every year passed, I started to avoid thinking that way at all and didn’t do much reflection on my year or having any introspective time. I think last year I watched a Jim Gaffigan standup special with my cats to avoid thinking about anything serious. Especially to avoid that thought, “Maybe this year will be the year…” It just became too painful to think it over and over every year. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Then, this year happened: 2023. Things finally changed. In late January I finally admitted some hard truths to myself about an experience I had in college that cracked the door to full acceptance of my sexuality. I was gay. I am very gay. I started to feel lighter, more energetic, freer to relax and be totally myself. The difference was huge. Between how I had felt for almost 10yrs (and partly even way before that) to the way I suddenly felt in a matter of months, the change was visible and dynamic. I couldn’t believe how much I was being dragged down in so many ways by this secret I was keeping from myself and trying to keep from everyone around me. I started “coming out” to people who I had even told previously that I “struggled with same-sex attraction” and they were probably confused about what was happening since they kind of already knew I was gay. But this time I was telling them I owned it. I was ok with it. I’m not going to keep “struggling” with it, but just accept it as a part of myself. I knew almost instantly I would be landing in an “affirming” position (as they describe it in Christian circles when you decide to “act” on your attractions). It took a hot minute to rule out the possibility I was bisexual, but then I was exclusively seeking out dates with women. It was wild, wonderful, and weird, yet at the same time felt completely normal and natural. I still can’t believe how things happened so fast. I kissed a girl for the first time (first time kissing anyone, actually) in May, and by August I was having an amazing weekend with a woman I had met and gotten to know long-distance. I was meeting new people and having fun, respectful interactions with people and enjoying flirting openly for the first time ever. I was actually pretty good at this flirting thing…I was just always trying to force it with men before and it never worked out so well. But when I actually let myself like a girl? It was kind of easy, really. Everything felt different. Some things were stereotypically like what I was told these “warm fuzzies” were supposed to feel like, other parts of it didn’t quite match up to what I was told it would be like. I am still figuring some of that out, like what I want from a relationship, what my capacity for love is and what I want my future with someone to look like. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">This year, I found myself. I found peace in the most real way I’ve felt in years. I found amazing, caring new queer friends who could relate to my struggles and experiences. I found a beautiful, intelligent, loving girlfriend who has been teaching me that maybe I am worthy of someone’s love and that it’s possible I’m not broken after all. I found courage to take chances and live my life to the fullest for the first time ever, accepting all emotions and experiences as valuable and desirable, even the painful or scary ones. I found my heart opening, softening to God’s love again, little by little, pulling away layers of hurt and distrust that had been crusting over for years. I found myself relaxed and genuinely enjoying myself in an affirming church service. I found hope, love, grace, and peace to all be tangible constructs again and not just nebulous impossibilities. This was the best year of my life. <o:p></o:p></p><p> </p><p class="MsoNormal">If you’re reading this and you’ve had a crappy year or maybe like me, you’ve felt stuck for many years, I want to encourage you to keep a tiny fragment of hope somewhere inside you. I want to remind you that even if you’re afraid to hope for it, this could be “your year.” If it’s not, though, keep holding on and keep being kind to yourself throughout your struggles. I believe God will not leave you totally abandoned but I totally see you if it feels like he has. That feeling is legit and I still struggle with bouts of anger towards him for that long stretch of feeling that way. But I don’t believe he is done with your story because he wasn’t done with mine. I hope for hope for you and that one day you will also have your “best year ever.”<o:p></o:p></p>

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