It's the time of the year where everyone is taking stock of 2022. I had a call with some old friends the other day where we did presentations on what we've been up to (mine consisted of the BTS photos I have saved and the ways they represent my state of mind), and Sallie and Mel recently came out with their 2022 Year End Review on their newsletter. These were lovely things to experience and after my pretty limp attempt at recapping 2022 during our call, I thought maybe I should try again.
I'm basing this recap off of some questions by @anime.astrology, a lovely HK-based astrology instagram I've been following lately. Astrology has taken off so much since I started referencing my moon and rising signs in Edinburgh house parties, but I like that accounts like @anime.astrology reinstate a sense of ritual in thinking and sharing our emotional journeys, especially since the pandemic has made the passing of time feel so strange in recent years. Here's my year in review:
Looking back...
Write a list of things, people, and events that you're grateful for.
The four months I spent learning to run at midnight, and then learning to love running. My father's love for Cantopop and how we've been spending time listening to new music on car rides, and then revisiting all of our old favourites. Late night chats with my mother and brother over crisps. Hearing the phrase "you're never alone in a sandwich" on unbearably sad days, wrapped up in a hug with some of my favourite people. Crocheting for friends, and having them wear the things I make. Interviewing some amazing artists and being able to document their thoughts and ambitions at the time being. Singing karaoke loudly with classmates I barely know anymore and feeling connected to them despite conversation being difficult. The steps behind HKMOA where I always get dinner with Sallie. The turtles in Hollywood Road Park. BTS. Finding freedom in divorcing my writing practice from career ambitions, and having that somehow unfold into one of the most prolific years of writing I've had so far. Dancing on a boat fully sober with my colleagues, and being laughed at for choosing ABBA because it is so unbearably UWC. Developing a creating writing retreat for domestic workers in Hong Kong with friends, and learning how to trust and work with people through the process. Grieving together through texts, through calls, and being able to laugh and cry through the sadness. Watching seventeen in a cinema at 11am with Hazel, and hearing CARATs scream ้ไป every time a member came up on screen. Bringing friends together at a picnic and hearing them chat about everything and nothing. Going to exhibitions and slowly, slowly developing the context needed to understand some of the things I'm seeing. A day trip with an artist where I then interviewed them under a bus shelter in pouring rain.
What shadow aspects of yourself are coming to the surface for integration right now? How can you learn to love and accept them?
My tendency to be melancholic. I have spent a time trying to phase through my melancholia, or to try and forget it, or otherwise trying to outpace my own life so I don't have to face myself in times where I am melancholic. And yet one of the favourite people in my life once described me as a "melancholic prince" in a tarot reading, which made me feel a little uncomfortable at the time. I think the grief I have witnessed in the past year has reshaped my understanding of melancholia lately; has made me understand that melancholia is not the same thing as depression, and that it won't destroy me. Now, I see melancholia as a sign that I need rest, that there are things in life that take more energy out of me than it does for others, and that it is okay to be in the blue as long as I understand it isn't a permanent state.
I said to a friend that my aim for 2023 is to learn how to carry on with things. I think earlier versions of myself saw life in starts and stops: I would have a period of rushing ahead with things, seeing everyone and doing everything, and then a period of utter stoppage in which I truly just hid in my room and didn't see people for weeks, months. I have found my melancholia here to be helpful in identifying when I am nearing the limit of my own energy and abilities, a signal that I need to slow down in order to continue to move. It's like what they say about running – run slow to run fast. I'm trying to accept these melancholic tendencies by treating them as a sign that something is off, whether that's in the things I am doing, or the speed and volume at which I'm doing them.
What events brought you energy, and what events depleted your energy?
Events that have brought me energy: Midnight running. Unexpected encounters with people which have flourished into friendships. Spending times on calls with friends, talking about easy and hard things all at once. Working with others on creative projects, and knowing a future exists in these projects. Finding things to be hopeful about with other people. Unexpected kindness from strangers, friends, family. Getting to know my mother and father and brother and all my relatives in familiar ways, but with a new light. Using "slay" in daily conversation. Being a fan. Accepting that feeling takes time, and allowing myself the space to feel. Teaching, and the moment when a student teaches themselves the skills I am trying to instill in them.
Events that have depleted my energy: The pandemic and the capitalism's relentless drive to forget the present precarity of our health and the health of those around me. Social encounters with no points of connection. Being misconstrued. Damp weather. My sluggish digestion. Being expected to put work above everything else. Failed attempts at communication. Having to jump between many tasks at once.
What are you willing to leave behind?
Sleep deprivation as a personality trait. I'm not great at managing my sleep; partially because I have always been a night owl, partially because of circumstances outside of my control, and sometimes because I want to push through to get something done or because I am too distracted by doom-scrolling on my phone at night. This year marked the resurgence of some of my worst sleep habits, but already at 23 I'm feeling the effects of it much more than when I was 14, or 17, or 19. My sleeping has recently evened out to something resembling what a normal adult needs, but I still find myself tired a lot, and I think it's my body holding onto sleep as much as possible because I am afraid that I will lose it again. Where possible, I want to cultivate healthier sleeping habits because everything just works so much better when I rest well. This last year I joked that I am a chronically sleep deprived person, and I'd like instead to become someone who occasionally experiences sleep deprivation instead.
There are other things I'd like to leave behind, but this is the one thing I'm truly ready (truly, truly) to let go of.
And then, say hello to 2023!
How can I bring more compassion and patience to myself?
I'd like to build more time to read, exercise, and be outdoors. These were the things that I really did not do in 2022, and I think not doing these things really took a hit on my quality of life and health. Some weeks I really felt like I was a human list of things to do, which was awful to my sense of compassion and patience. Achieving this means scheduling them into my life in a way which makes them necessities, and I think it will help to do these activities with or in relation to loved ones as much as possible.
Continuing to actively track time, the things that I have done, and things I need to do. One of the things I insist all of my students do is to try and plan: their essays, but also their time. I tell them that this is a way of managing chaos, because I feel the most frazzled when I have a sense that there are many things I need to do but don't write them down. When I do write things down I so often feel so much better, and I just need to remind myself that this, too, is a necessary part of the way I tick.
Going back to the 2022 list, write down a few things you can do to bring more events that bring you more energy.
Setting intentions in the mornings. Building free time into my days. Getting off twitter in the mornings and nights. Planning planning planning, but for short term things and not the vague life-planning I also like to do at 3am which just consists of despairing over the future. Continuing to be curious about people, and asking thoughtful questions as well as silly ones. Sharing the things I feel passionate and excited about, in the knowledge that they are probably things others would be interested and excited about instead. Flexibility, both in the literal sense and in my attitude towards what is possible. Hosting cosy get-togethers with friends and family. Knowing that the best futures with people are ones that emerge from a combination of intention and happenstance, and letting that guide me. Rest above all, for the sake of rest.
Write down how you can eliminate people/events that suck out your time and energy.
Going into social events imagining what I want to get out of them, and having an exit plan when things go south. Taking a moment to pause when people make claims about what I am, and deciding whether that has to do with me, or with themselves. Trying not to doom-scroll on my phone so much. Staying off LinkedIn. Not worrying so much about having control over all situations, and telling people that is the case. Asking for help, or for guidance, or for thoughts from the people I trust when I'm unsure or confused about something or someone.
Leaving myself Alice Sparkly Kat's reading for Leos this year as well, which felt incredibly apt as I read it halfway through writing this post:
Most of the time, it is better to build slowly than to not build at all. I think that, and this is my opinion, that you tend to credit your will with far too much. Sometimes, rigidity in decision making is not overcome by attaching a life philosophy to the process. Sometimes, Leos tend to focus a lot on who is right for them and who is not.
Maybe there is no answer. What would happen if there wasn't one? What would happen to your defenses? Your openness?
Life is just lived with whomever you stumble upon. Sometimes you bond with someone and sometimes you do not. Sometimes you hurt someone and sometimes someone hurts you. Sometimes you have to burn a bridge. Sometimes you have to build one, as painful as that might be.
The only thing that I am certain of is that the chances of you developing close and resilient attachments increases when you actually choose your relationships. There is no morality with relationships, you see. There are no right types or wrong types. There is only the certainty of your choice. If you want stability, then go move slowly. If you go too fast, then you are not building at all.
Questions to ask yourself in 2023:
What makes you stay?
What makes you choose something when you’re not sure of its rightness?
What if life is an accident?
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