As much as I love to laugh at Basic White Folk behavior, I sometimes fall into some of those same traps. One trait straight out of the Basic White Folks rulebook* that I have been guilty of (along with singing the “Bah! Bah! Bah!” parts while listening to “Sweet Caroline”) is this: hitting December and declaring the year that’s in the rearview “the worst ever,” and then insisting that the next one simply has to be better.
Now I can sit here and tell you that, yes, this year has been a doozy in spots for me, as I’m sure it has for you, as well, but haven’t they all?
We’re human, and we thrive on patterns, rhythms and rituals, so it’s comforting to us; a way to frame change and something new as a clean break instead of a gradual process. However, it’s a flawed way of thinking, IF you really stop to think about it.
Every time we broadly paint the past in dark shades and the looming future in hues of unrealistic brightness, we set ourselves up for disappointment before whatever the new thing is begins, in this case the coming attraction that is 2026.
The new year that is four short weeks away is like a baby doll without a face – potentially terrifying or welcoming, depending on how you look at it.
Years ago, I read a particular philosopher postulating on this idea, that the scariest type of baby doll was one that was sans face, and the reason for its inherent scariness is that all manner of fears could be projected upon it. But then again, all manner of hopes could also be projected, by the same token.
With the ritual of adopting the standard “this year is trash, next one will be better” approach, we subconsciously project fears upon that blank slate ahead. A big part of the problem is that it is far easier for us to remember the frustrations, losses and irritations of an entire set of 365 calendar days instead of recalling the quiet victories. The negative moments tend to carry more weight, and Lord knows how they echo. A single hardship can overshadow several months of steady progress, of little victories and meaningful connections, so, when most folks look back, they often do so with a selective lens: one that sees struggle much more clearly than success.
As Americans, our lives seem to exist within a constant pressure cooker – from the outside and all over the inside – and that’s part of the reason why many of us cannot even slow down enough to think about this simple concept I’m devoting this scrawling to. That pressure comes right along with January 1, and that blank slate compels most of us to write drastic change upon it: new habits, new goals, new selves, but those lofty expectations are fragile things.
When life brings setbacks, and inevitably, it will, or fatigue, or the same old challenges, many/most folks feel like they’ve failed before the year has even really started, and it becomes a cycle – disappointment in the present with accompanying nostalgia rewritten to make the previous scenario(s) sound worse than they actually were, and hope is pinned to a future where everything is expected to be fixed at once.
Instead, why don’t we all resolve to do this: why don’t we remember the good parts of the year we’ve just lived through? It’s simple, but I think it might work.
Every year contains bright spots, even if they were small. Think about the moments of laughter that broke up heavy weeks. Think about the great song that tickled your brain a certain way that you heard on your morning commute, or the new dish you learned to cook and patted yourself on the back about.
Those are just a few broad examples, but it’s little victories like those that balance perspective. When people highlight those things, they can recognize that growth does not require erasing everything that came before, but building on it. Accentuate the positive. Life is rarely all one thing, and by not dwelling on hardships, but appreciating the positive, the things that went right can carry a sense of momentum as opposed to fatigue.
Then expectations can shift from “everything will be different” or “new year, new me” to “I can continue what’s working and improve what isn’t.” Now that’s a hopeful mindset that works without being unrealistic.
The new year does not need to be a reinvention. It can just be a continuation; an opportunity to keep shaping life one step at a time. Honor the good in the previous year, and create a stronger foundation for the year ahead, instead of one built on lofty fantasies and disappointment. Genuine progress and gratitude will take you far.
*The Basic Whitefolks’ Guide to Living was co-ghostwritten by Nicholas Sparks and Debbie Macomber and comes free with every purchase of two pairs of Dockers.
