New Year’s Eve has long been my favorite holiday. I believe in fresh starts, new beginnings, and resolving for improvement of the status quo. I spend time each NYE reflecting on the year past and projecting what I’d like to see in the upcoming new year. And this year, as big watery snow flakes fall, I am brought to tears.

Although I will have a significant milestone birthday that I am absolutely excited about in 2025, I am dreading the immediate future of our nation, and fearing what ripples this will cause globally. I think of loved ones with plans to travel abroad, and I hope they bought the good travel insurance package. Instead of hope, I am filled with dread.

At our extended family’s X’mas gathering, someone put in a coffee mug with the likeness of #45 into the white elephant exchange. Comments were made about what a great gift that is, and how the youngster that ended up with it was “raised right.” I wanted to use my turn to take that stupid mug and smash it. I have never felt so alone in a room full of people.

How can anyone think a deranged, unhinged, scoundrel is worthy of the office of president? How can anyone dismiss the crimes and grift? How can anyone absolve the insults and ignorance and think “yea, that’s who I want representing me?” How did so many people fall for the lies? Fine, it’s over, the good guys lost. I’ve been working to reconcile that since November. It’s been a struggle to be sure.

It is possible that I will financially benefit during this new regime. But I have so much more on my mind than my bank account. I’m more people-oriented. I wish for peace, civility, decorum, freedom. You know, the things we used to be working toward. I miss hope. I am under no delusion that this assault will only last four years. So, 2025 marks the beginning of a new era. And not a cute Taylor Swift-style era, either. I am worried for friends who are not cis-white-hetero-citizens. I am worried for the future of education in America. I am worried for our collective health. I am worried about my family’s homeland and the safety of our relatives there.

Sigh. I resolve to be the best version of myself that I can be in 2025. Anxiety is worrying about the future. Without downing bottles of pills, I will do that which I must to keep myself as healthy as possible. So, rather than seeking 2025 with wonder, I’m hanging the new calendar with the understanding that my happiness will have to come on a micro level. I will have to seek it out in the peace that I gift to myself by cutting out national news, social media, and a whole slew of people who do not understand where we’re headed. Ignorance is dangerous, not bliss. It’s a difficult climb to reach the pinnacle of forgiveness when so many people got us here. Now I’ll truly be singing, longing for the old times of yesteryear.