Grace period.
I have a friend who calls the time between Christmas and New Year’s the ‘tain’t of the year. And it makes me laugh because it’s just so true — it ain’t one year and it ain’t the next either.
When I worked in advertising, there was a tradition to shut down as long as the agency had done well enough to justify the break — a sort of Christmas bonus that most of us took for granted. In the more than decade I spent in the biz working for six different agencies, there was only one time that we didn’t get all the days. (It had been a very, very bleak year for everybody.) I wish I could say that I used those days wisely but it never felt like I had anything to show for the extra time off or that I came back in the New Year refreshed and ready to go.
I’ve tried to be more intentional about the in-between space over the past few years. There’s usually a fair amount of bon bon and bad TV, but there’s also plenty of time spent thinking around what’s carried me through, what it’s time to shed, and what I hope for in the future.
It was harder to find the focus for reflection these past few days. And while it would would be easy to place most of the blame on a not-so-little guy giving me a serious run for my money lately, it wouldn’t be entirely fair. (Besides, his latest antics are hilarious even while being totally exhausting.)
The truth is that I didn’t really want to go there — reflecting on the mess that was 2020.
I half-heartedly looked at journal prompts and put pen to paper for a couple of short pages. I suspect I’m not the only one who struggled to process a year of heartbreak and heaviness punctuated, if we were lucky, by a few sweet moments of joy.
I never picked a word of the year for 2020 (or any year for that matter). If I had, it would have been acceptance. It’s a practice I have to work at — changing what I can and letting go of what I can’t. The past year was filled with opportunities to surrender my own plans and trust in something bigger; at times I excelled and at others I failed miserably. I’ve at least identified a theme but the more nuanced takeaways still feel like they’re unfolding.
It’s harder still to think about the coming year — to dare to dream.
I’ve been struggling with the second half of my usual exercise. The perfectionist within me resists moving forward when last year is still filled with so many incompletes. And the pragmatist wonders what’s the point of writing down dreams and goals and plans when so many variables are still up in the air.
I woke up this morning frustrated that January 1st will come and go and the exercise will likely still be unfinished. 10 days of liminal space simply wasn’t enough this year. Not enough to exhale after a life-changing 2020 let alone take a breath before a year which will bring more momentous shifts.
Mid-afternoon, I remembered reading a newsletter recently that held a powerful declaration: the entrepreneur behind it would be starting her year in February; January would be a time for rest, reflection and forward thinking. A grace period of sorts.
I’ve decided to give myself permission to do the same.
2021 may be here but I’ll start my new year when I’m good and ready.
