I know I’ve said this before but it’s relevant at New Year’s: the odd years are growth years and the even years are catch-up years (according to my therapist), and if that’s the case (2023 = odd number) we’re heading into a growth year. I eagerly dread the push of growth (Jackson was born in an odd year; Jack died in an odd year), but the optimist in me knows you can’t grow stronger or build new muscle without getting sore, so really it’s a good kind of sore, maybe? Ugh, brace yourselves. We’re at the edge of this cliff and old man 2022 is putting his shoulder into our backs. (Is baby 2023 supposed to catch us? Is the cliff my actual brain that I’m clinging to, clawing portions of a crumbling organ back into my head while simultaneously destroying it? Two small, inaccurate metaphors have birthed a larger more terrible metaphor for how disorganized my thinking has become.)

This morning I woke up, rolled over, and deleted the number one time wasting app off my phone: Two Dots, I gave you acres of my precious time in 2022 and, to be fair, you gave me a lot of little dopamine bumps in return. But achieving level 3000 resulted in precisely nothing I can show to the world; indeed, imaginary achievement has replaced every single thing I used to like about myself. I maybe finished reading two books last year; I didn’t draw or knit or bead or learn to pipe royal icing. Jackson has a friend who deliberately owns a flip phone and has actual conversations with people and is never made slack-jawed by time-wasting apps, and after initially dismissing him as a charming crank I do see his point. I’m living his point. I need to make some changes or I’ll perish from this earth with little to show for my efforts here, a lot of unread books and a dozen fancy candles that, okay yes, I really enjoy and I wouldn’t have known about without Instagram (follow Affluent Detritus for affordable lifestyle upgrades).

A long time ago (holy god, thirteen years) I wrote a post describing a breathing exercise my yoga teacher taught me. You stand and put your hands on your knees and take a few big breaths in and out; then you push all your breath out and hold it out, and you don’t inhale even when you get that panicky feeling that you need to inhale right now — you hold on one second longer than you think you can stand it, don’t give into that panic, “Don’t give it what it wants,” he said. It’s a lesson I forget and remember, forgot and re-remember: don’t open the app to distract myself, don’t let it have hours of my attention, don’t cover up momentary discomfort with meaningless activity. The boredom will pass, it always does, and dopamine can be found in other ways (oatmeal, apparently?!).

DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO

I loved Alice’s best of 2022 list and I wish I had one of my own to share, but with all of the time I wasted (see above) I neither consumed nor produced much to add to the greater culture this year. But here are a couple of things I enjoyed:

So happy to see Will Sharpe, who was a revelation to me playing Rodney, the street-tough rent boy in Giri/Haji, appear as Aubrey Plaza’s shy, nerdy husband in season two of White Lotus. So I guess even though I watched Giri/Haji in 2020, I still recommend it as one of the best things on Netflix.

Show I haven’t watched but is supposed to be fantastic: Bad Sisters on Apple TV, which I’ve been paying $4.99 a month for since Ted Lasso ended, so that’s like $50 down the drain I guess, god, I pay for so many channels and services I barely use, this whole system is borderline criminal.

I honestly can’t think of anything else to recommend, apart from having a relative that sends you a Zabar’s box every Christmas, and a partner who loves you, and a child who’s growing up and away while somehow growing closer to you, and a comfortable bed to sleep in, and bird feeders outside your window and good walking shoes and a hat to keep the rain off your head and a job that will give you a whole week off between Christmas and New Year’s.

(And this candle and this puzzle and A Charlie Brown Christmas.)

Here’s to making shit happen in 2023. I love you guys, thanks for sticking with me.