The one thing 2020 can't take from you

I've read a lot of hot takes recently about how we should all be thinking about New Year's Eve in 2020. Some say we should cancel it all together, forever:

"Obviously, we can't stop the Earth from taking three hundred and sixty-five days to go around the sun. Nor can we date our checks 'June 3, ?lol?.' But what if our acknowledgment of every new year was merely clerical, like with most any other day?"

I've also seen others lament (with an unrelenting, firm grip on their gallows humor) how, phonetically, next year sounds like "twenty twenty won."

Of course, even with a rather vocal "New Year's Eve sucks!" constituency bellowing from the peanut gallery, there are those hopeful few who are still trying to make the most of today's festivities:

"This year, holidays are even more important than ever. The past few months have been challenging for many of us, and New Year's Eve is the perfect day to reflect and reset. Seriously, what better time is there to look back on all you've accomplished and overcome than the last day of the year? Before the clock strikes 12, grab a favorite bottle of bubbly and get ready to celebrate with these festive quarantine New Year's Eve ideas."

As for me... well, I'm not sure how I feel.

On the one hand, I am always irked by those who seem as if they've been waiting their entire lives to share their now-validated misanthropic points of view. (We get it, you've spent years hating humanity and all of your suspicions have been confirmed — what else is new?)

On the other hand, I'm also prone to emotionally dry-heaving around people whose "sunny side of life" outlook seems completely out of step with the grave realities of what is happening around them.

I think I expected to feel something negative going into 2021. Whether that be anger over what was seemingly lost or acute loneliness after many months of prolonged, periodic sprints of quarantined isolation.

Instead, as I packed up my Jeep this morning (preparing to be reunited with someone special), I felt a surprising sense of accomplishment for all of us.

Why? Well, we made it.

It doesn't matter how stressed you are — hi, I am still very stressed and have many significant unanswered questions about the future — if you are reading this email right now, you have made it to the end of this hope-extinguishing, gut-punching, stress-testing, norm-shredding, money-burning, anxiety-inducing, Zoom-encased "growth experience" marathon that has been 2020.

Through the endless number of sleepless nights, pivots, and emergency meetings, you made it here, to this very moment, in one piece.

Whether it feels like it or not, that is worthy of celebration.

You are more resilient than you probably ever imagined. And the creativity and innovation you have undoubtedly displayed throughout the past 12 months, in the face of unprecedented adversity, is (I'm going to guess) far beyond what you thought possible.

Even if you are still trying to put the pieces back together, think about how many things you did this year (both great and small) that you would have quickly labeled "absolutely and unequivocally impossible" in 2019.

I would be willing to bet you $1 million you'd need more fingers than you have hands to complete that list.

No matter who you are — whether you think New Year's Eve is an evil holiday, or you're ready toast to another year gone by — remember that. This year may have taken a lot from all of us, but it can never rob you of your resilience and your ability to surprise yourself with what you're truly capable of.

With that, I wish you all, my LATEST family, the happiest New Year. May we all enjoy this one final celebratory moment... before I remember how much work I put off until after the holidays, because: "That will be 2021 Liz's problem. She can handle it."