Tens(e)

The tens end today.

It's always a been a bit of a struggle for me, articulating feelings. The words we assign them are shades of the reality. They can never hold the weight; they're never exact. If they do inspire some sense of understanding, you can never know for sure that somebody else really knows. The common ones -- happy, angry, surprised -- are easy. You know what they look like. You can point them out on an emoji. It's the complicated emotions that are hard for me. What does remorse look like? What about contentment? Vindication?

I get the same feeling every year on New Year's Eve, and I don't know what it is. I always recognize it as "the feeling I get on New Year's," but I've never really tried to explore it. This year, though, I can't avoid it. We're on the eve of a new decade, and I feel it tenfold.

Let me try. It's like a mix of anxiety and nostalgia, with a little bit of regret mixed in, but also pride? It's like the feeling you get when you don't have enough time to finish something important, but also, weirdly, the feeling you get when you're going over everything to make sure you're done? Like I've just finished packing, and I'm trying to figure out what (if anything) I've forgotten while I'm running out the door.

And there it is -- the clock is ticking, time is running out, and somewhere in my mind I need to know for certain if the year has been a success. If there's anything I missed. It'll never be 2019 again, did I finish it on time?

Except this time, it's a decade. It's the whole 2010's.

I know, I know. It's such a stupid thing to stress about. Years are arbitrary, they only have meaning because we assign meaning to them, there's always more time, move at your own pace, yadda, yadda, yadda. I get it. I know I don't need to indulge this feeling, but even if I try to ignore it... it's still there.

The stupid, stupid question that I don't know how else to word: Did I finish the decade?

Let's rewind. 2010. I would have been 15 at the start of the year. I was a high school sophomore, middling on the swim team, still trying to figure out friends, and, wow, like, deeply suicidal. I was in such a dark place at the beginning of this decade. By the time I was a senior (2011-2012) my social life was in shambles, I had multiple health issues, and I'd quit swimming. At least I got into Northwestern, right? But wait, whoops, I couldn't afford it.

On NYE 2011-12, a friend from church texted me, terrified, because the party she went to (with other friends from church) was flowing with alcohol and she didn't know what to do. I felt that new year's emotion at full force. Two competing thoughts: What happened this year that led to me wanting to be at that party? What happened this year that led to me not going?

I went to college and stayed in that dark place for a bit. Was I having trouble making friends, or did I not want to? I had more health issues, another suicidal scare, and then a close friend died. I retreated into this place where I was keeping people at a distance. I'd make funny jokes, and I'd be fun to be around, but I wouldn't open up. I wouldn't get close to people.

But that... changed, didn't it?

In 2015 I lived in Australia for a few months, and I really felt like I was living. The thing is... I missed home. This place I wanted to get away from so badly that I went to the other side of the world. I wanted to go back. I wanted Michigan, I wanted my friends, I wanted my family. I wanted my life. For the first time in ages, I wanted my life.

Because it was good, wasn't it? Or at least, I could make it better if I tried.

I started swimming again. I got a lot better at singing. I helped make a movie that premiered at a film festival. I started -- slowly -- to let people in.

College ended. New years 2016-17 came around. I was unemployed, a lot of my friends were moving away, and the world seemed completely insane after... that election. I felt that new years feeling as I was putting on a pair of glasses that said "Fuck 2016," with the eye-holes in the 0 and 6. I went to a party with some of my closest friends, the girl I went to prom with, and a whole bunch of strangers. I slept in a kitchen chair. I didn't "finish the year on time," but I was happy.

And then the big things started happening. I got a real job. I finally started dating again. I moved out. I traveled the country. I lived.

NYE 2018-19, I walked to the bar closest to my house for a 20's themed "Gatsby New Year." I wore the suit from my sister's wedding, drank free champaign, and (for the first time in my life) didn't watch the ball drop on TV. We took pictures with a disposable camera that I still haven't taken to be developed. It was just a fun night out. The new year's feeling was there, but it wasn't stressful. It was just... there.

So now the decade's ending, and I'm having my "end of the year" feeling on an "end of the decade" scale, and I can't help but see how far I've come. Ten year challenge? It's been a transformation. From the emo high schooler who wanted to die, to the confident twenty something with a life I desperately want to live.

I think that's a good note to end the decade on. Even if it's just time arbitrarily passing that we've decided to celebrate. Even though so many of those years felt incomplete. This decade, I figured out how to do it. I figured out how to finish on time. Maybe I stumbled along the way, but I'm sticking the landing. 2019? Done. 2010's? Done. 2020?

Bring it on.