I'll admit it: I have a problem with New Year’s Eve. There seem to be two distinct camps with regard to this evening of merriment. In one camp are those who love the festive and romantic events where champagne flows freely and midnight kisses punctuate the moment the clock clicks into the next year. And then there is my camp, with those of us who feel a tad melancholy about the whole NYE thing.
It’s true—I tend to avoid New Year’s Eve “celebrations” like the plague. I think it started back in 2006. After years of having a spouse to attend the annual party with, my first attempt to join in the celebration post-divorce as a swinging single was a rude awakening. All around me were happy couples, dressed up, carousing, and generally enjoying coupledom. I had never felt so alone as I did that New Year’s Eve surrounded by a room full of people. I left early and went home and cried myself to sleep. So, yes, that experience traumatized me a bit, to say the least. The lesson learned? If you are single DO NOT attend a NYE party made up of mostly couples!
But it’s more than that one pathetic experience that brings me down on New Year’s Eve. I was the kid who cried on the last day of school because I didn’t want to say goodbye to my teacher. I don’t like endings, period. Endings prick the membrane of my sentimental heart and allow raw emotions to bubble up to the surface. When the end of yet another year of life is nearing a close, I feel a sense of loss. I panic that my life is racing by, that I am one year closer to the grave. And when the video montages of all the famous people who have died in any given year are broadcast on various shows I feel shock and sorrow.
Geez, just look at this year alone! Who would have ever thought that in one year we would lose so many beloved performers—many in my own age group! We lost Bowie, and Prince, George Michael, and Carrie Fisher. From the band Emerson, Lake and Palmer, we lost Emerson and Lake. Garry Shandling, Alan Thicke, and Patty Duke. These people were not old, ranging in age from 53-71. It just shakes you up, to see your own generation dropping like flies. Then there is Florence Henderson, Mohammed Ali, Garry Marshall, Doris Roberts, Ron Glass, Maurice White—all fixtures during my youth in one way or another. Heck, even R2D2 died this year (the actor inside the suit). Yes, it’s true, we are all immortal, I get that. But something about NYE seems to underscore that uncomfortable fact.
Take the famous song, Auld Lang Syne. I have absolutely no idea what the lyrics are. I could never memorize them for some reason. All I know is that that song makes me want to SOB. It elicits very strong emotions of loss in me for some reason. The melody just reeks of sorrow, so I would rather not be at a party sobbing my eyes out when that song gets played.
The folks in the pro-NYE camp would tell me that New Year’s Eve is an opportunity to celebrate the year and to welcome in the New Year. They are correct, of course. I remember as a kid being allowed to stay up until midnight to go outside and bang pots and pans as loud as we wanted. That was fun! But as an adult, I just feel disappointed at the parties I have attended. I would go out and buy a pretty dress and wear high heels and look forward to hanging out with friends. But the reality never seemed to live up to the fantasy of what New Year’s Eve revelry was supposed to look and feel like.
I may be a stick in the mud when it comes to this annual rite of closing out the year, that is true. I much prefer to spend the evening with loved ones—going to a movie and cooking an awesome meal is much more appealing to me. Staying up until midnight: Optional. But when the clanging of pots and pans stirs me from my slumber, I smile.