So, What Now?

Or, 2023 Kicked Me in the Lady Balls & I am Not Sure if I can Come Back From That

Jan 03, 2024

If dropping off the face of the earth was an Olympic Sport, I would be Gabby Douglas or maybe even Simone Biles, depending on who you ask. Every few years, I get tired of living and decide to retreat to whatever den of solitude I can muster up at the time, delete my social media and drop every single friend I’ve ever made. It got so bad in undergrad that a group of dorm pals made a “Where is Jess Sims?” Facebook group. For the record, I wasn’t anywhere, just ditching the first semester of sophomore year.

Long story.

The end of 2023 was one of the those times. If I could summarize last year in one word? FUCK. That would be the word, just FUCK. I found joy in nothing: not writing, not s*x, not friends, not family, nothing. I could wax poetically about the sheer depth of my displeasure with the year, but suffice it to say: last year was a doozy.

And here’s the thing: I am not sure how to recover.

I know I am not the only person who didn’t have a banner year—Twitter became X, the media industry laid off a sizeable portion of some fantastic writers and editors, some guys died in a tuna can controlled by a Nintendo64 joystick, the people of Lahaina were hit by a wildfire that consumed acres of their neighborhood, among many other tragedies.

In that respect, my year wasn’t terrible. It just wasn’t good. I felt like Sisyphus, pushing a boulder made up of my own mediocrity up a hill toward nothing. No great bylines, no incredible love affairs, no giant wads of cash waiting at my front door. I turned to the worst vices to cope: languishing, complaining and eating. What was it Solange said? I tried to sleep it away, eat it away, ignore it away…something like that.

But, one good thing did come out of last year: I had to make a change. I had to change something, or else I wouldn’t survive. At first, it was small changes; I splurged on pilates class and decided to stop relaxing and bleaching my hair, added a regular reading time to my schedule so I would stop looking at social media all day, forced myself to keep plans with friends that required me to put on makeup and leave my apartment. Then, it was more significant changes; I deleted every social media app from my phone, joined a novel-writing critique group, and got rid of my apartment. I won’t lie and say these changes ultimately got me out of my funk, but they gave me something small to look forward to. Something just important enough to get out of bed and stop wallowing in my own crevice of self-defeat.

I found that in my darkest moment, maybe it wasn’t so dark at all. Maybe the light was just obscured by curtains I had put up, or rather, walls that supported my very narrow beliefs of success, love, and happiness look like. Walls that served me well once, but now? They needed to come down. I needed to be something different. So maybe I am not meant to “come back” from 2023. In a way. Perhaps the Jess that entered 2023 wasn’t meant to make it out of there alive. What was it that Beyonce said? “None of my fears can’t go where I’m headed.”

Bey: unbothered, hydrated, skin clear, money-long, making art.

I grieved for 2023 Jess; she got me through 30-odd years of life. I may still be grieving, actually, and that’s totally OK; my past self was a fully-formed human being who deserves to be remembered and honoured for getting me through seven years of university, if nothing else. Here lies Jess: she was a loving daughter, a wonderful sister, an AMAZING aunt, niece and granddaughter, a damn good writer and an emotionally-stunted, neurotic, pile of fears who was afraid of vulnerability and success. I’m glad I knew her, but damn, am I glad she’s gone.

So what’s next? I don’t know. I am not even entirely sure “new” Jess is here yet; it takes weeks for caterpillars to become butterflies, and they become goo in the process. I may still be at the “goo” phase. And that’s OK. My sincerest hope is that you didn’t let 2023 totally kick you in the ass, and if it did, just know that you can emerge from the ashes, too. It’s possible. Look at me.

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