A New Year’s Eve Survival Guide

Reticent rsvp-ers! Graham here, for one last time in 2019.

So, it’s New Year’s Eve. Or as I call it: “Why don’t you want to go out Graham? What’s wrong with you??” Eve.

(A festive title, no?)

I’ve tried to trace where exactly my relationship with New Year’s went wrong. It’s best explained through the two main strategies I’ve employed to get through New Year’s in the past.

Strategy #1: Get drunk

For years I did what most people do. I got really drunk, pushed through my natural preference for quieter, shorter forms of socialising, and often stayed up all night. 

And for a few years that worked. I sometimes even had fun!

But as I’ve moved into my mid-30s, alcohol has been a less viable answer to the New Year’s Eve question. Most times when I drink now, I feel preemptively hungover before I get anywhere near ‘stay up all night’ drunk. 

So, back to the drawing board?

Strategy #2: Stay home, feel shitty.

That’s when I discovered another strategy for New Year’s. Stay home. 

This strategy has real advantages. For one, you get to stay home! Amazing.

But it also has real drawbacks.

You feel left out. You feel like a buzzkill for saying ‘no’ to friends’ plans.

You may tell yourself you shouldn’t feel these things. You may even pile further shame on yourself for feeling ashamed in the first place. (I’m 36! Why do I still care about this stuff??)

And shockingly, this will not make you feel better about the whole thing. (WHAT??)

The dreaded gap 

Here’s the thing. It’s not my feelings about New Year’s themselves that are the problem here. 

When I think about my current relationship to New Year’s objectively, it basically boils down to this. 'I don’t tend to like big parties, especially now that I don’t drink so much.' 

When I say it like that, it seems pretty reasonable - and the answer fairly straightforward. 'Okay then, don’t go to a big party?'

The problem lies in the gap between my views about this whole thing, and the views of some of my closest friends. 

My friends don’t just find it easier to enjoy themselves on New Year’s. It’s a major highlight in their calendar year. A big, raging party is about the best way they can think of to mark the change of year. 

So my discomfort around New Year’s lies in this gap between the way my friends think about this stuff and the way I do.

Your yearly reminder of difference

Even when I push myself and join them at a big event, in the days (and even weeks) leading up to it, they’re thinking mostly about how much fun it will be. I’m thinking mostly about how I’ll get through it, how late I’ll need to stay up to feel like I was really a part of it, and so on.

So New Year’s is my yearly reminder of how different I am to a lot of my friends. Even though most of the time I see this difference as neutral - we’re different, so what? - occasions like New Year’s poke an old soft spot.

Why can’t you be more like the others??

I want to take part in the ritual, even if I don’t love it

I think this soft spot is hiding something important.

A genuine desire to join in.

When I say my old strategy of getting drunk on New Year’s ‘worked’, I mean it helped me take part in the ritual, even if the reality of that ritual (long, loud parties) wasn’t my first choice.

Regardless of how I feel about big parties, there is something I like about the idea of marking the changing of the year with other people. Some people genuinely don’t care about this, and slowly realise they can happily just opt out of the whole New Year’s thing. But that’s not me.

I think I am finally reaching a point where I know my feelings about New Year’s are not a referendum on my viability as a social entity (yay!). But I still want to be involved somehow, even if it’s not doing the big party thing.

So the question becomes, how can I still partake in the ritual, when it’s not really my thing?

Option 1. Push through. (Stoically.)

The old staple. Just go out and do the big party thing. This is what I did last year (and I’m glad I did).

If that’s your plan tonight, here’s one thing from last year that may help. Our Stoic Prayer for New Year’s Eve.

Recite it as you get ready, or as you pace the block outside the place you’re going. Or review it in the bathroom once you’re finally inside.

Ahem…

I expect to see people seemingly having the best possible time all around me. (I expect that I won’t necessarily feel the same.)

I expect to feel awkward, disconnected, and at times like I’m not in on the joke.

I expect to wander off on my own at least once, to stare into the middle distance and wonder ‘what am I doing here?’, before heading back inside and hoping no one asks ‘where’d you go???’

I expect to feel inauthentic at times - if I’m lucky, interlaced with a few precious moments of actually un-self-consciously expressing and enjoying myself. (Just one or two moments will do.)

And when I’m leaving the party (whether I make it to midnight or not) I expect to feel slightly unsatisfied, underwhelmed, but also to know I did the hard thing, and I survived.

Option 2: Rewrite the ritual.

This is what I’m attempting this year. We have a couple of close friends coming over, for otherwise-as-yet-undetermined-plans. 

Maybe we’ll go out at some point in the evening, maybe we won’t. The key is we’ve already explicitly stated our main shared goal: it’d be nice to be together as the year ticks over.

And strangely, I’m actually looking forward to this one! There's still the usual pang of nerves I have about any event where I'm supposed to Have Fun. But there's more than the usual amount of genuine excitement too.

Maybe because it’s the thing I’ve actually been looking for every New Year’s, but so often missing, either because I’ve pushed myself too hard (Must party like my friends do! Must enjoy it too!) or because I’ve opted out completely even though I’ve secretly wanted to be involved (Screw this I’m staying home with Bodie).

'How dare you go out without me?'

This little low-key not-quite-a-plan we’ve cooked up is hopefully a chance to get what I’ve been searching for this whole time. To feel connected to other humans as we mark the passing of another year.

Whatever I do on New Year’s in the future, I think that’s ultimately what I’m looking for from now on. Buried in the bother and the fuss, a chance to feel part of it all, without needing to suddenly become a completely different person who likes loud music and long nights.

(Phew.)

Hey you! Yes you! Thanks for being with us this year. I may not love big gatherings these days, but I very much do love getting to write to so many of you every two weeks. Speaking of feeling connected, knowing that there are thousands of you out there (and counting) is a constant source of joy and solidarity. And it’s kind of like a party right? An inbox feelings party?? Sure. Consider yourself always invited.

See ya next year folks x