7 days ago I stood with a friend, bundled in sweats and a jacket, on the rocky shore of a mountain lake, contemplating my decision to dip, yet again, in this ice cold body of water. The birthday dip is full of ritual and meaning and deep renewal for myself. The New Year’s day dip, well, historically, has just been more to have something to do on New Year’s Day other than sit around and watch football. And, more frequently than not, it’s been in the Pacific ocean, which is markedly warmer than Donner Lake. So, in full disclosure, taking into account the glaring white snow of the surrounding shore and mountains, this dip seemed far from important, even farther from necessary and just damn cold.
But, we were there, with swimsuits under coats, motivated by the presence of the other and encouraged by whiskey. The goal was clear, undress, get in, dunk, get out and redress. All with as much speed as possible to avoid the potential ‘icing over’ of eyebrows and strands of hair and the pain of frozen toes.
But, well, that isn’t what happened. You see, this stretch of lake is littered with rocks and it’s a bit of an effort to maneuver through them to get to slightly sandier ground. So despite the desire to do this all seamlessly and quickly, we weren’t able to. Three steps into the water, we were tripping and slipping and haphazardly crawling into deeper water. Which got us wetter than we had imagined during the entrance and exacerbated the feelings of frozenness creeping up our skin. The exit was no different. This time fully wet and already frozen, we tripped and slipped and crawled our way out. And we laughed at the ungracefulness of it all and we laughed at the awkwardness of the entry and exit and we stood on the shore, our bodies steaming, wondering why we do stupid stuff like this.
I shot him a text the next day with this photo and the caption, ‘Leavin’ 2020 be like…crawlin’. Most ungraceful exit we could have imagined’. And though funny, that idea continued to ruminate in me. Because what I wanted was something better. What I imagined that dip would do to me internally, didn’t. I wanted to come out a new person. But, the reality is, just because I freeze my ass off on the first day of the year doesn’t mean everything else goes away. It doesn’t mean I am in any different place moving into the new year than I was leaving the old one. I crawled out of 2020 and crawled into 2021 and no amount of resolutions are going to change the fact that I’m still on my hands and knees, tripping and slipping up the shore.
And I can’t blame that on a calendar year. I just can’t. It isn’t 2020’s fault that I’m feeling depressed. It isn’t 2020’s fault that I’m unhappy with my spouse, don’t have a consistent form of income and am pulling away from all my friends. It isn’t 2020's fault that I have neglected my son to the point where he makes comments like, ‘you only parent when it’s convenient for you’. It isn’t 2020’s fault that I called my 15 year old daughter a bitch in front of my 5 year old. Let me tell you. That is my fault. Mine. And let me also tell you, that is not a good parenting strategy. That is not a good life strategy. That is no strategy at all. That is straight up emotional reaction to rejection and accusations and blame and misunderstandings and complaints and ungratefulness and selfishness and hurt. It is reacting to the reality that I have neglected to care for things in my life that need care.
And I’m deeply sad about that. And no amount of freezing cold water can numb those feelings. And the feel-good pulses of a new year can’t distract me from the recognition of where I actually still am…crawlin’.