Spiral Season

I am one of those annoying “finish the year strong” people. I usually spend the last thirty days of any year planning for the year to come; cleaning and purging my apartment, making super detailed financial goals, game planning how best to position myself for what I want the next year of my career to look like, filling my time with parties and friends and dates and sometimes even sleep. Because of it, I usually walk into my new year feeling ready for the world; prepared, focused, energized. And I absolutely love the clean slate of the calendar page turning.

But this year? I plan to unapologetically spiral. 

I am going to spend December completely losing my shit. I am going to be absolutely devastated at the things I’ve lost. I am going to be soundly despondent about the things that make my life uncomfortable. I am going to be full-on, scream-at-the-moon enraged about all the ways I prepared for a world that doesn’t exist anymore and the absolute shit show I am left with. I will be deeply resentful of everything that seemed one way, but it was the other way. I will plan nothing. I’ll be positively feral. I will make only the worst, most deeply toxic choices if they make me feel good. I might at least make a financial plan for next year. But I also intend to spend the next month blowing money like a drug dealer on a trip with his good girl girlfriend. 

Sad music intrinsically tied to still hurtful memories? I’m listening. Cringey rom coms sandwiched by gratuitously violent movies? Run the marathon. Wildly expensive Christmas gift for myself? Buying that. Staying up ‘til all hours of the night, drinking too much and taking too many edibles? Bring on the binge. Too much money on spa treatments and cosmetic procedures? Swiping without even looking. Trips I shouldn’t go on with people I shouldn’t be talking to? Send me a ticket. Raging tantrums about all the things that should have been but aren’t? Please give me a spotlight. Hours of not leaving the bed? Consider me a hibernating bear. Wildly personal, emotional confessions I usually wouldn’t ever tell a soul? Bring on the word vomit.

I.
Will.
Spiral.

I’ll still use the new year as a blank page on which to write the story of my next year. I’ll get it together and go on being a productive citizen. In the meantime, though? I intend to fall entirely the fuck apart.

I’m pretty excited.