New Year’s Eve: Holding the Door Open ✨
New Year’s Eve has a strange quiet to it when you really listen. π
Not the loud countdowns or curated celebrations—but the softer moments in between. The conversations that linger. The things people say without realizing how much they reveal. The truths we don’t always have the energy to argue with, but still carry with us.
Tonight, I’m thinking about how different lives can intersect on the same street. πΆ♀️πΆ♂️
A conversation with a mother and her son—new to the neighbourhood, excited by the view, impressed by the location, confident in their footing. University. Tech jobs. Transfers. Opportunity. When the topic of poverty and addiction surfaced, the words “it’s a choice” landed heavily. I chose not to debate in that moment. Some conversations require not just facts, but readiness—and not everyone is there yet.
But I did say this: poverty doesn’t discriminate forever. Systems don’t either. And if we don’t lift everyone, those systems eventually come for more than we expect. ⚖️
I’m not angry about it.
I’m observant. π
This year has taught me that observation is its own form of resistance.
I’ve seen how easily comfort can create distance—and how quickly circumstances can change. I’ve seen how people move into places without understanding the history beneath their feet, the lives pushed to the margins to make those views possible. π️ I’ve also seen kindness where it wasn’t expected, and resilience where it should never have been required. π±
Tonight, I’m also aware of absence.
Friends far away, sharing meals. π½️
People celebrating together. π
Others, quietly alone.
If tonight looks different than you hoped—if you’re not surrounded by noise or champagne—please know this: presence still counts. A walk. A movie. A favourite treat. A deep breath. Survival itself is not small. π€
I don’t believe hope has to be loud.
I believe hope can sit beside grief.
I believe empathy is learned—or it isn’t—and education matters more than judgment. π
I believe dignity should never be conditional.
As the year turns, I’m not wishing for perfection.
I’m wishing for awareness.
For softer conversations.
For courage without cruelty.
For communities that understand we are only as strong as how we treat those with the least protection. π€
If you’re celebrating tonight, I’m glad.
If you’re grieving, you’re not behind.
If you’re alone, you still belong. ✨
Here’s to a year where we look a little closer,
listen a little longer,
and remember that lifting others is not charity—
it’s survival. π
Gentle wishes for the year ahead.
— Tina π«
Reflective Questions π€✨
- Where have I noticed comfort creating distance—in myself or in others?
- What assumptions do I carry about people whose lives look different from mine?
- When have I chosen observation over argument, and what did that teach me?
- What does dignity look like in everyday actions—not policies or slogans?
- How can I help “lift” others in ways that are realistic, human, and sustainable?
- What kind of presence do I want to bring into the new year—especially in difficult conversations?