I'm not the biggest fan of New Year's Eve. If there was an equivalent of Scrooge for the New Year celebrations, then I am afraid it would probably be me. One of my earliest memories of not liking New Year's Eve was at a party when I was little. I remember having to stand in a circle, cross my arms, hold hands and then sing "Auld Lang Syne" which I really don't like.
Like Christmas, which I really do enjoy, New Year is a time of reflection. Sometimes the reflection is also joined by expectation which feels forced at New Year - an expectation that on the turn of a calendar page things should be, must be different from before. That feels too overwhelming.
Last year in the days before Christmas and New Year, I went shopping by myself. Something that I was so proud about. My husband and son went to play badminton, so I planned a couple of hours shopping at a small retail park. It was only a few weeks after my second round of SRS (brain radiotherapy) for the latest brain met that they had found. I planned to just take it easy, look around a few of the shops and maybe go for a coffee. I wandered around TK Maxx amongst all the Christmas decorations that were on sale, the random ornaments and the endless candles. I remember seeing a rack of calendars and diaries with 2025 blazoned across each one and suddenly the tears came. I just needed to get out of there.
I went into Costa, got a latte and sat in a corner trying to stop my tears. The coffee shop was full of people who were having a break from shopping. I didn't want anyone to see me crying. The calendars had just knocked my emotions and I sat there and realised that the thought of a New Year was so overwhelming. 2023 had been tough. I had just found out I had progressed to stage 4, I had started treatment, dealt with side effects like colitis and had 2 rounds of SRS for brain mets - my worst fear had happened. What would 2024 be like? Would I manage treatment? Would side effects stop treatment? What if the colitis came back? What if I didn't see the end of 2024? All these questions were whirring about in my mind and coupled with the anxiety, the latte made me feel sick. It all felt too much, too overwhlming to see calendars with each day of 2024 in front of me.
It took me a while, but I managed to stop the silent crying in Costa and met my husband and son. We spent New Year with my parents and I tried my best to put the thoughts I had to the back of my mind. Ultimately, I did not need to buy a calendar or diary. I could just tely on the reminders of my phone and print a month page at a time to keep track of appointments and so on. It was a case of going back to the "one day at a time" mantra that had always helped me cope.
This year, my husband and I went back to the same retail park - maybe we lack imagination sometimes. It took us ages to walk around, mainly because my arthritis in my knee has staretd again and I'm using a crutch (immunotherapy is a gist that keeps on giving.) We went into Costa and I told Matt about the year before. Those feelings of anxiety are still there, I think they always will be but facing 2025 doesn't feel as overwhelming. This is probably for a number of reasons. My scans are stable and looking good, no new mets have developed in 2024. I am also due to finish immunotherapy in the first part of 2025. I do have side effects - arthritis and diabetes, but I feel safe as they are being managed well. I feel like I am part of the medical team looking after me, I know my body and feel more in tune with it than before. I also have counselling and I'm taking anti-anxiety medication. I can't manage the anxiety alone. My family and friends also help me a great deal, they are my strength.
I expect 2025 to be like every other year I have lived so far - there will be highs and lows, ups and downs, dramas and times of peace, laughter and tears, change and stability - because that is life. That is what life is like. My hope is that there will be contentment more than anything else because as a family I think we need that. We need some breathing space. But that is no different to everyone else.
I still don't have a calendar or diary. I still just print out a month at a time and put it on my noticeboard. But, I do have a "One Line A Day" memory book. This isn't for appointments or things to remind me to do. Instead it's about recording memories and thoughts - little sparkles of joy. It's a record of things that have made me think that day, things that have happened that have made me smile or laugh or that I just want to remember.
Today, a woman stopped us in the street and said our dog was the cutest dog she had ever seen. Our dog, looked up at her, wagged her tail as if she had understood the compliment. It made me smile and I'll probably write it in my book. Our dog will probably feature in my memory book a lot, she does make me laugh (this is her with me on Christmas Eve in the photo above.)
What I have learnt, but what I still need to remind myself of is that even in the darkest times I have faced, there is usually a sparkle of joy somewhere waiting to be found. I hold onto that tightly and I hope that there will be many in 2025 for us all.
Having said all of this, I'll still be a New Year's Scrooge and I know one thing for certain - I won't be singing Auld Langs Syne!
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