(not the) 2023 lookback

I’m 39 and a half years old, and almost every year of my adult life, I’ve filled in this end-of-year questionnaire for whatever audience I had on whichever corner of the internet. In my twenties, my answers to the bigger questions were almost always the same. I used to picture myself one day being euphoric at finally being able to answer them with a big fat happy yes instead of the standard self-pity or snark year after year. Later on, into my thirties, after the grief and loss mountain of the early-mid 2010s and then the pandemic rendered everything beyond a joke, it became about celebrating the small wins, or the unlikely ones: Marathon running. The very occasional short holiday. Not dying, or having to say goodbye to any relatives on Zoom, etc.

This year, I’ve achieved most of the things the end-of-year questionnaire always sorely reminded me I hadn’t and wasn’t sure I ever would — along with a more complete understanding than ever of why it took me so long and what I need to do to make the remaining stuff happen.

And guess what? Now I can finally answer those big questions with that big yes, I’m just…not feeling much like it. I don’t mean that in a nihilistic way, but in a “Ooh I really must sort out my Substack and let people know what’s happening with my books” way.

See you next year…