Since my oldest child is just five, I haven’t had the opportunity to celebrate New Year’s Eve in a meaningful way for six years—five of those were spent either pregnant, breastfeeding, or managing the whims of toddlers. But this New Year’s Eve felt different, as the kids left to spend time with their dad at 4 PM and wouldn’t be back for another day. I decided to take a long-overdue shower to wash away the past year.
For the past couple of months, I’ve been in a tough place. October kicked off divorce mediation, followed by tireless trial preparations throughout November, which included some hefty bills. My attorney rolled in with an overwhelming stack of paperwork on a dolly, and I now share the burden of credit card debt with countless others. Then came a three-day trial in December—only 5% of divorces actually reach this stage, and I found myself amongst that unfortunate statistic. I spent six long days without my children before Christmas, experiencing my first holiday as a divorcee with a mix of tears, reflection, and a tight grip on my emotions. There’s one last trial day scheduled for January, because when it comes to money, tempers can flare.
But it was New Year’s Eve—the night when we traditionally shed the burdens of the past and embrace the fresh possibilities of the New Year. I’ve always cherished this holiday; it’s a time when change feels not only acceptable but encouraged. For one night, we can toast to new beginnings, reveling in the joys of life and letting go of our worries. At least for one festive night, we clink glasses and agree that change is good, even if we revert back to our old routines the very next day. It’s liberating, and I love that feeling.
As I stood in the shower, I reflected on these themes. My mind wandered to the last significant New Year’s Eve I truly celebrated—back in 2008 in Costa Rica. We had planned to attend a rooftop party at our small hotel, but the electricity faltered, leaving us in darkness. My then-husband and I found ourselves on a silent rooftop, overlooking a quiet town, listening to distant celebrations. With only a single apple to share, I remembered the joy we had on the beach the night before, where I ran into the ocean, skirt in hand, laughing with strangers by a bonfire. It was a beautiful memory, one I hadn’t allowed myself to revisit in a long time.
Suddenly, as if struck by a revelation, I exclaimed, “Holy cow. I used to love him!” It felt like the most foreign thought I’d ever had. In that moment, I felt my entire body let go—every ounce of tension washed away down the drain. It was a powerful realization that beneath my anger and disappointment lay a deep ocean of sadness over my broken heart.
Surrendering to this wave of emotion was overwhelming. I pressed my hand against the shower wall for support as I let the tears flow, allowing myself to truly feel my grief for the first time. The sadness enveloped me, cleansing and suffocating all at once. I spent two days in tears, afraid to step back into the shower, haunted by the emotions I had finally faced.
On New Year’s Eve, I chose to stay in. I had a peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich at midnight, paired with a forgotten bottle of bubbly from the days when we were together. I binge-watched Netflix and released a white lantern from the Fourth of July into the night sky. It was a bittersweet experience—painful yet beautiful, cathartic and full of ache. I finally accepted that I loved him.
What surprised me further was the emergence of forgiveness. Alongside the heartache came a profound sense of compassion for both him and myself. I began to forgive him for being flawed and imperfect, just as we all are. I released the anger over his actions and the hurtful words that had been exchanged. I even found a way to forgive his family for their role in the situation, realizing they, too, were merely humans trying to protect their own.
This journey of forgiveness didn’t stop with him; I also began to extend that same grace to myself. I forgave myself for holding onto anger and struggling to let go sooner. I recognized that I had been wrong in many ways, and it was time to embrace my own imperfections.
All of this emerged as I confronted the Painful Truth that I had spent so long avoiding. The truth is, I loved him, he broke my heart, and that story is undeniably sad. But even amidst the pain, I found solace in knowing I would be okay. The past may be behind me, but today is a new day, and tomorrow holds endless possibilities.
So here’s to the New Year. I’ll embrace change like an old friend, letting go of the past and cherishing what lies ahead. I raise my glass to all the possibilities that await us. Cheers!
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Summary: In a reflective New Year’s Eve shower, the author confronts her past, acknowledges her emotions, and experiences a cathartic release. Through this process, she discovers forgiveness for both her ex-husband and herself, ultimately embracing the hope and possibilities that come with a new year.