New years are peculiar. I suspect that’s the case for a lot of people. Of course there is no real significance to a new year. It’s just the transition from one day to the next. It’s nothing more than a shift in digits. Yet being the species that we are, we’ve applied more meaning to this particular transition in numbers. A random day suddenly becomes an annual appraisal for our lives. An invitation to reflect on the past and consider our futures.

This is probably far from surprising. Humans love an opportunity to tell a story, after all. We like to shape the random happenstances of into narratives. Stories give shape to our existence; fashioning meaning out of madness. It allows us to take our experiences and mold them into something that makes sense to our fable-devouring minds. Anniversaries and traditions are mere vehicles when it comes to fashioning these tales. It’s why we have weddings, funerals, awards evenings, appraisals, rituals, political ideologies and religion. They helps us summarize and channel chaos through a familiar lens. All of this probably sounds as pretentious as it almost certainly is, but I think there’s a truth to my ramblings.

New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day are no different. It’s a cultural ritual that gives people an opportunity to break up their lives into seasons; an invitation to compartmentalise our experiences into 12-monthly blocks, measuring whether the latest series was good, bad, or somewhere in between. What memorable moments threaded themselves into that particular year? How do we fare at the end of it compared to the start? How does it hold up in comparison to the other years we’ve experienced throughout our lives? Do we want more of the same in the following year, or should we slam the reset button in favor of something else?

2024 has been a mixed year for me. I suppose I could say that about all of the 34 years I’ve been alive. 365 days is a long time for a variety of positive, negative and middling experiences to occur, after all. Compared to many of my more recent years, however, I’d say this was generally more balanced than the others.

The good has been pretty decent, mind you. After all it was the year in which I started up a podcast, deepened the relationships within my social circle, and finally learnt to set boundaries for myself. The more I think about it, the more I recognise how significant these steps have been for me. While the journey toward self-love is still very much in its early stages for me, I’ve certainly made significant progress. Though my mental health is far from great, I’m making progress, to say the least. Surely this can’t be a bad thing, right?

The low points where fairly low this year, mind you. I’ve written about them a lot in my personal journal, although they aren’t something I’m keen to share within the public sphere; usually because they involve other individuals. While I am usually content to share personal experiences that concern my own character, it would not be fair to do this if it drags others into the mix. If the experiences aren’t shrouded in metaphor, fiction, or hidden behind password protected OneNote files, then it would be cruel to broadcast to over the web.

I suppose the negative experiences have helped me grow a lot as a person, however, which is something I am comfortable to discuss openly. While the specific contents of those difficult moments are hidden away, the ways in which they have shaped me are very much on show. The pain of the past year has brought a lot into perspective for me. It has allowed me to evaluate my life in a way I haven’t done for quite some time now. It’s served as a “you are here” pointer; one that has jolted me awake and let me take a step back from the daily routines that decorate much of my existence.

All of which has made me realise I’m not where I want to be in life. I haven’t been for a while now. I’m not in a place where I feel fulfilled or engaged in the world. Despite this not being a startling revelation for me, it is something that I’ve chosen to ignore for far too long. I’ve been so preoccupied with people pleasing and maintaining financial stability, that I’ve not been doing enough to deal with the underlying problems plaguing my present. I’ve been ignoring the fire surrounding me, somehow convincing myself that the flames are merely keeping me warm.

The challenging moments during the past year have put me on high alert, forcing me to think more deeply about the life that I’ve built for myself. It’s shown me that beneath the surface, nothing is okay. The adult life I have is not the one I envisioned for myself. What’s worse, is it’s not one that fulfils me.

At its basic level, recognising this is good. Very good, in fact. Telling myself I’m not happy isn’t a case of me admitting defeat. It’s me being honest with myself. Things are wrong, and I need to do something about it. The awareness motivates me to take action. Life ticks along without issue, it is easy to convince myself everything is okay. Adult life is meant to be dull and monotonous and predictable, I can tell myself. I can’t motivate myself when I’m lulled into that mode of thinking. To stand back and look on in horror forces me to confront the poisons that have infected my daily life. It prompts me to begin finding a cure.

Problem is, this realisation is also terrifying. For the first time in a long while, I have no idea how my future is going to pan out. Okay, fine, so you can apply this claim to any moment in a person’s life. All our futures are unpredictable, no matter how often we tell ourselves otherwise. Even if we have a stable relationship, job and lifestyle, moments can swing on by at any time to topple that status quo. I guess most the time though, we don’t really think about this fact. Yet now, I’m sat here wondering, what is my future going to be like? What will my world be like in 12 months’ time? Will I be in another relationship? What will be my job? Am I still going to be living in this house? What might my career actually look like? Heck, how similar of a person might I be? If my motivation to change really does trigger me to take action, then all of these questions are open for discussion.

At this moment in time, I can’t answer any of these. All I know is that a lot needs to change, if I am to find some sort of satisfaction with this existence of mine. There is no fixed goal. No paved out roadmap. All I know is that the status quo isn’t functioning to my requirements, and I need to try something else.

There’s a comfort I find in the familiarity of my life. Even when unfulfillment and misery seep from the sameness of it all, I can rest knowing that tomorrow should be the same as today. Yet this type of comfort breads discontent. When I’m resting, I am not moving forward. When I am not moving forward, my life does not grow.

Fear is good. Fear means I’m beginning to move again. Or at least it means I’m in the process of figuring out how to do so. The anxiety builds, forcing my brain to face the very thing that makes it feel miserable. I don’t wish for 2025 to be a mimic of 2024, or 2023 for that matter. If we’re going to entertain the shape that we humans like to assign to new year’s, then this needs to be the strange new season that breathes life into the flagging franchise of my autobiography. Whether it’ll sink or swim is not something I can declare at this time. All I know is that things need to be different to save me from guaranteed discontent.

But different how exactly? I’ve no clue. Sure, I can throw some ideas at the wall to help along the way. I can keep on striving to love myself more, take on more unfamiliar challenges, write more, read more, research new careers, broaden my horizons, eat healthier, sleep longer, listen to others with more intent, and listen to my own thoughts with greater concentration. Are these the methods that will spark true change? I’ve no idea. Will I need to do more beyond these arbitrary notions? Almost definitely.

Yet tucked away, in the deepest depths of this fear that I am feeling, is something more hopeful and wonderful than I could imagine. There’s an excitement to the unknown. A promise of a more interesting, unique and surreal future. While it is impossible to say whether this future will be good or bad is beside the point. It’s the excitement of the difference that I need to cling to. While the road of tomorrow might be filled with uncertainty and fear, there’s a chance for something new at the other end. It might not be better than what has come before, but it’s worth a gamble. Anything to take on the lack of fulfillment currently at the center of my existence.

As I step into the new year, I hope to embrace the unknown with an open heart. Fear might not be comfortable, but it has the potential to lead me somewhere new and unpredictable. Whether the dice roll will land in my favor has yet to be seen, but at least it means I can say I gave it a go.