Wrapped
Every December 31 for the past few years, I’ve written a wrap-up post on Instagram. In those days where I posted nearly every day, it was a way to summarize several hundred posts. Now that I think of social media more as a way to post occasional updates, it becomes a way to catch people up on things I might have not thought to show. It also inadvertently becomes a way for me to articulate my accomplishments, something my therapist would smile at.
2022’s post has been my favorite so far, if only because it was the most dynamic year I’ve had as an adult. It read: “In 2022, I: set up my candles in my first retail booth location, reached the breaking point with my job, had a minor mental breakdown, was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, took two months' unpaid leave from my job to do an intensive outpatient mental health program, co-organized the Pride edition of the Queer Craft Market, got a new job, got to live with my partner for six weeks, drove across the country, ate In n Out for the first time, went on my first work trip, turned 33, represented my employer at an LGBTQ tech conference, had my car totaled in a hit and run, bought a used spaceship (it has Bluetooth and a backup cam okay it's a spaceship), co-organized the Queer Craft Market Winter Bazaar, and made my very first fantasy football championship!” If I’m being completely honest, my favorite part is the fantasy football championship.
2023’s, in some ways, can be exceptionally short. In 2023, I: lost Vi. It feels like every single thing I’ve done since has been colored by her absence. I’m even struggling to think of what I did, aside from move across the country. (“Aside from move across the country?!” a part of me is exclaiming.) It’s hard to feel like the accomplishments are accomplishments when she’s not here to celebrate with me. When we signed our lease, I instinctively wanted to tell her and cried when I realized I couldn’t. It feels like the grief is hanging on.
I’m not really surprised that I can’t remember what else I’ve done. My memory is fuzzy on a good day, let alone after a year of some of the worst stress I’ve ever experienced. I know there are things, I just need to go back and find them.
Spotify Wrapped Day is one of my favorites, just to see what my year in music has been like. In previous years, it’s been Katie Oh staples - things like Springsteen and The Weakerthans and The Decemberists and Beyoncé. In both 2021 and 2022, Bo Burnham’s “Inside,” a humorous documentation of his experience with his mental health during the pandemic, was my top album. It lived on repeat through my own oscillating mental health as I spiraled toward my 2022 breakdown.
So, even though I was in the top 0.05% of boygenius listeners worldwide per Spotify, this year’s edition is less concerning. boygenius is sad bitch music, but their March 31 release, “the record,” was as much a testament to queer friendship and love as grief and sadness. The boys showed up in feature after fascinated feature about their music and friendship this year, accompanied by photos of them draped over each other, laughing together, generally looking as though they were having a wonderful time. And what a perfect time for “the record” to come into my life, as I navigated the loss of a close queer friendship. I wept through seeing them in June, every song reminding me of what I’ve lost. “If you rewrite your life, may I still/play a part in the next one?” I hope, I hope, I hope.
I’m not so much running into a new year as I am stumbling headfirst into it. I’ve never been particularly graceful, but it’s the getting there that counts, I’m telling myself.
I feel unable to make resolutions for 2024. Survival is the resolution every year now. I’m thankful that you’re still here. Thank you for sticking with me.