on 2024 (happy new year)

I am tapping this note out to you whilst en route to Auckland. In so doing, I am finding myself longing for 2017 — that half-year I spent as an exchange student, zipping from city to city, travelling solo for the first time, doggedly attempting to document it all. That year, at 19, I became the most daring, assured, outgoing version of myself that I have ever been. This year, as I come to terms with turning 26 (!!!), that version of myself is a stranger. 

2023 did not treat me kindly. Amidst political crises (in particular: a referendum that threw our White nation fantasy into sharp relief, and now, an ongoing, Zionist, settler-colonial campaign of ethnic cleansing that, despite being far away, feels close to home), I weathered personal crises, too (though, the personal is political, as we know!). Life threw me for a loop more than once, plans derailed. As a result, I don't think I've ever felt as unmoored as I do now. To be frank: I don't think I've ever felt as emotionally unwell as I do now. 

And so I'm less frog-marching into 2024, more stumbling; compelled only by the inevitability of time, not by any sense of excitement. This is, in large part, because — whilst on my reprieve from my nine-to-five, and as I prepare to undertake my PhD fieldwork and a teaching fellowship — this year will be different in ways I cannot plan for yet, and lord knows how much I rely on planning to soothe my tightly wound soul. I am currently incapable of going with the flow, embracing spontaneity, in the ways the younger me found (scary but) liberating. Whilst it is a spirit I'd like to rediscover one day, I am no longer smitten by the idea of grand adventure. For now, I'm just a little too emotionally fatigued, a little too jaded.

Happy new year. May 2024 bring you rest, small moments of joy, pearls of wisdom, progress (whatever that means for you), reasons to survive (if not to thrive). That is all I am wishing for myself.

For those of you who've made it this far, a brief post-script: I wanted to let you know that you're now part of an extra exclusive bunch. For the time being, this newsletter will be subscriber-only — until I work out how to manage a couple of PhD-related confidentialities, ethical dilemmas and identity crises. I find comfort in writing honestly, but not everyone has the right to the full spectrum of my honest thoughts; I am learning to set boundaries.

You are still welcome to read, comment or respond, and, if you so desire, share or recommend this newsletter to those who might find it good food for thought. In particular: as I get into the thick of it, I'm hoping to write more about my PhD experience this year, and I'd love to hear from others navigating their own weird pathways through graduate research. In the meantime — and this is long overdue — thank you for reading.