When the clock strikes midnight this New Year’s, I’m going to raise my water bottle (because let’s be real, I can barely afford seltzer water), not just to the year ahead, but to this wonderfully messy, surprisingly resilient human I’m becoming. And I’m going to take a deep breath. A really deep breath.
But this isn’t just any ordinary breath. This breath is a connection to something larger than myself, a thread in the vast tapestry of life that weaves through time and space.
You see, every breath we take contains argon, an element that’s been around since the birth of our planet. It’s in the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the very earth beneath our feet. And with every inhale, we’re taking in a tiny piece of this shared history, a connection to countless lives that have come before us.
Scientists can actually trace the presence of argon in our breath, like a fingerprint of our connection to the planet and to each other. It’s a reminder that we’re not isolated individuals, but rather part of a vast, interconnected web of life.
This breath, this simple act of inhaling and exhaling, has been part of moments of triumph, whispers of love, cries of pain, and sighs of relief. It has witnessed history, carried the laughter of children, and held the wisdom of elders. It’s been part of the first breath of life and the last breath of those who came before us. And one day, our final breath will become part of the life force of millions yet to come.
Our breath is a bridge—connecting us to every corner of our planet and to every living being that shares this Earth. It’s a reminder that we’re all part of something larger than ourselves, a grand symphony of existence where every note, every breath, plays a vital role.
So, this New Year’s Eve, as the clock strikes twelve, I invite you to join me in a collective breath. Let’s inhale the wisdom of the past, exhale the challenges of the present, and embrace the possibilities of the future. Let’s breathe together, connected by the invisible threads of argon and the shared experience of being human.
This year threw more plot twists at me than a CW teen drama having an identity crisis. There were days when my backup plan had a backup plan, and both of them were just lying face-down on the floor making carpet angels. But you know what? Even on the days when my motivation was running on fewer cylinders than a bicycle, I kept going. When I felt as lost as Nemo and as confused as Dory, I kept going.
And there were those other days, the ones that really tested my limits. Like that time I sat in my car, sobbing uncontrollably, after dropping the kids off at their mom’s, the weight of the divorce and the uncertainty of the future crashing down on me. It wasn’t pretty, but it was real. And somehow, even in that moment of raw vulnerability, I found a spark of strength, a flicker of hope that whispered, “You’ve got this.”
But here’s the thing, my fellow oddballs: it’s not just about me. It’s about you, too. It’s about every single one of us who made it to the last day of 2024. You woke up this morning, you faced the day, you navigated the twists and turns of life with that beautifully “oddthentic” brain of yours. You showed up, you kept going, and you’re here. That’s something to celebrate.
Whether you’re a parent juggling school lunches and bedtime stories, a student burning the midnight oil over textbooks, a caregiver offering comfort and support, or someone simply trying to find their way in this wonderfully weird world, you’ve made it. You’ve faced your challenges, embraced your quirks, and found moments of joy amidst the chaos. And that, my friends, is a testament to your strength and resilience.
And here’s the “aha!” moment that hit me like a ton of bricks (metaphorically speaking, of course, because let’s be real, I’d probably get a concussion if an actual ton of bricks fell on me): We’re not just surviving; we’re thriving. We’re taking those challenges, those plot twists, those moments of chaos, and we’re weaving them into the tapestry of our “oddthentic” lives. We’re learning, we’re growing, and we’re becoming even more beautifully, wonderfully weird versions of ourselves.
So when midnight rolls around, I’m toasting to the strength I found in weird places—like that breakdown in my car. Here’s to the lessons I didn’t exactly sign up for (seriously, universe, a post-it note warning would’ve been nice), but that somehow turned me into this person who now knows that rock bottom has some surprisingly comfy spots to rest and regroup.
Here’s to surviving the storms while occasionally dancing in the rain. Here’s to choosing to believe in brighter days ahead, even when the current forecast calls for a storm.
And as the clock strikes twelve, and a new year begins, let’s remember those words I wrote way back in 2001, a lifetime ago, it seems:
Here’s to the life
that we once knew,
here’s to the love
that could have been,
Here’s to the times
we didn’t have a clue.
Here’s to the future,
and being us, again.
Here’s to me. And here’s to you. Happy New Year, my fellow oddballs and misfits. May our breaths connect us, our stories inspire us, and our “oddthenticity” guide us towards a brighter future.
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