About a decade ago was the first time I spent New Years away from my family. I was at the tail end of my time at OSU, and I'd both been invited to a party at a place just north of campus that would become a purgatory of sorts for me for a while, and had someone coming over on New Years Day for a hot time.

It upset my Mom a bit. In her culture New Years is the more important between it and Christmas, but mostly she just didn't want me to be apart from her at all. My Dad let me go, understanding I needed a social life outside of them at this point in my development, and my Mom reluctantly relaxed. As much as she ever could, at least.

So I went down to this party wearing one of my more fabulous outfits. A fur long coat over a cream colored suit with a red cravat. It was my second party at the Hudson House, which was the big party house in the neighborhood where I currently live today.

It was a wild time, most of the burnouts weren't quite so burnt out yet. The cocaine use was minimal, and mostly everyone got drunk and complained about how rough a year 2016 had been. I was trying to stay sober since I'd noticed myself drinking too much during election season.

2016 had been quite a rough year for me. I'd had a lot of trouble with getting the funding to finish school, and I had developed a couple toxic friendships, and was losing control of my depression as a result. I'd been working as a manager at UPS for the graveyard shift, and was essentially living on the opposite schedule from most everyone I knew.

Everyone at the party had many a complaint about 2016, especially about the recent election. Others had more personal losses, like me. A woman with a chocobo tattoo on her arm had lost her brother to suicide. The party's theme was "Fuck 2016" as a result of the general all around vibe.

Pieces of paper were passed out for people to list what they hated about 2016. I had many an entry myself. After midnight, we gathered around a bonfire in the back and burned the papers, sending the general fuck you out into the universe.

Oh what sweet summer children we were.

Well obviously 2017 was worse. We were all miffed about the results of the election that somehow it didn't occur to anyone that the consequences of the elected administration coming to power would probably be worse. And even that's a hilariously outdated take now.

And as for me, those toxic friendships got worse, and they spiraled out of control. I started abusing alcohol for the first time. That hottie I had a fun time with on New Years Day? Actually extremely toxic, but to be fair I already knew that I just figured I could keep it at arm's reach. Horniness is a hell of a drug.

I ended up rooming with someone who did not understand the concept of cleanliness, not even in shared spaces as well as had trouble making rent so we were facing eviction constantly. I also got involved with yet another toxic person who it turned out had been stalking me without my knowing about it for three years. She did not take my request to scale back our involvement very well. On top of all that, my friendships with everyone dwindled and I found myself another lost soul at the limbo that was the Hudson House.

To put it succinctly, 2016 had nothing on 2017. It felt like 2017 showed up to kick the asses of everyone who'd been bullying its little brother.

I looked back to that Fuck 2016 Party by the next winter, and I decided that perhaps we'd been too hasty. Hindsight is always 20/20, but it occurred to me that it probably didn't help my karma to blame the year for everything when so much is in my hands.

I found myself back at my folks' place in Ashtabula that New Years, trying to get sober and working on miniatures for the first time in several years since I'd started at OSU. It was hard, but it had been a long time since I did something so satisfying.

As 2018 came upon me, I didn't say Fuck 2017. I simply bid it farewell and hoped that whatever came next would be better.

Incidentally, 2018 was one of the better years of my life. I started weightlifting with some basic vinyl concrete dumbbells I found at Walmart. I got lucky and ended up working in an IT call center which got me into my career field. And probably most importantly, I started dating Caitlin.

I'd known her for a little while, a little under a year. She ended up meeting my former housemate Kelsey on the queer housing network that some groups at OSU had set up, and during Kelsey's birthday party in April, we ended up talking and it turned out we liked a lot of the same shows. She struck me as a theatre snob and I'd been wanting someone to go with me to the Shakespeare in the Park a troupe did in south Columbus. By July we were very close.

I should add that Caitlin actually isn't much of a theatre snob, but her current girlfriend also got the same idea and had one of their early dates at the same place. Some people just give that impression, y'know?

I sure saw a lot of Fuck 2024 sentiments that have been cowed by 2025. There's certainly no shortage of Fuck 2025 sentiments this year either.

2025 was one of my better years. I stayed sober, got myself into shape again. I traveled a bit, made a lot of new friends, clicked with a lovely person, and healed some of the wounds in me.

Not to say it wasn't a hard year. Obviously the political zeitgeist is hammering me as much as anyone else, and my once robust paycheck is now just enough to tread water. But y'know, the things I prepared for and worked on turned out well, and I've spent a lot of time figuring out what else I need to work on.

So I find myself now at the shores of a new year. In the past, this was a season of hopes and dreams, of what treasures this new year might hold, but more and more I see only dread, dread for the ugly hand of fate to reach out and yank us further into the future.

The word "future" used to mean so much more. In my childhood it would elicit visions of flying cars and jetpacks and now it mostly just seems to indicate heavier chains and darker days.

But y'know, years come and go. Some are worse than others. I still want this time to be one of hopes and dreams and thoughts of a brighter future where we can hold our heads high and live as human beings forging the people we want to be and confronting the frontiers of the self.

Last night I didn't go out. Between the freezing temperatures, my dear friends facing their own demons, and my partner being in another city, I decided to stay indoors and just hang out with my cat watching the Stranger Things finale.

A lot of my extroversion is definitely fueled by fomo, but I find myself able to be more satisfied with my own company these days, which is unusual for the winter.

I'm a big believer in the idea that you get what you give. And this past year I gave myself a lot. Mostly in the form of working out, but also my hobbies, and my social life, and most of all, giving myself some grace.

So I hope then that this year is one in which I continue to give, that I manage to give myself more, and that somehow in spite of it all it'll be enough.

It'll be enough.