How (and Why) I'm Hard Resetting for 2024

And why you won't be seeing much of me on Instagram in January

My family had decided on bringing in Chinese food for New Year’s Eve, but they weren’t accepting online orders as to avoid the inevitable letdown of pickup and delivery fuck-ups on such a busy occasion. I offered to drive to the restaurant by myself, place the takeout order in person, and wait it out. Truth be told, I needed a second alone.

My sister, her wife, and their twins had been staying with us since the day after Christmas and weren’t leaving until this very morning, January 3. For eight days, our house was packed to the brim with adults, kids, and three dogs. Dull moments became a distant memory. The idea of being bored seemed foreign to me. We were up and at ‘em every single day, and while I’m exhausted today, I relished every minute of it.

My perfect niece and me

But on New Year’s Eve around 5pm as I sat outside said Chinese restaurant, sipping a beer and waiting for our orange chicken AND beef (among several other dishes), I started crying into my beer. Because I didn’t want to be drinking it. I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted this first round of Letrozole and a trigger shot and timed intercourse to work, to take. But it didn’t. And even though I pleaded with myself to not get my hopes up, I did. So there I sat, on one of the busiest streets in our area, sobbing into my beer in public to end what was a pretty shitty year.

When I got home and stopped crying (it took a while), I somehow managed to get dressed, put on sparkly eyeshadow and earrings for the holiday, and join my family for festivities.

“There’s no sparkle in your eye,” my mom said to me, even with literal sparkly eyeshadow on. And I knew that. I’ve known that (and wrote about it here). The sparkle I’m known for amongst my friends and family disappeared months ago, and I’m desperate to get it back.

That’s why I’m hard resetting this month.

I’m not usually one for Dry January or New Year’s resolutions or any of the cliché shit that comes along with a new year, but I need it.

I need to press and quickly release my volume up button, then press and quickly release my volume down button, then press and hold the side button until my Apple logo appears.

I need a break from my own version of doom scrolling Instagram, seeing shiny, happy families, pregnancy announcements, and birth announcements. The bitterness and anger I was starting to feel was gross, and it’s the last place I want to be mentally.

I need a break from drinking because, well, why the hell not? What am I going to miss out on by not partaking for a month? Feeling shitty, extra calories, and more weight gain? Oh no…

I need a break from obsessing over getting knocked up. From letting all the acronyms and jargon I’ve picked up over the last nine months swirl around in my head like an endless cyclone of anxiety.

I need a break from making excuses as to why I’m not eating right or moving my body, and I need to just DO IT.

I just… need a minute.

So you won’t be seeing me on Instagram in January, but you will be seeing way more of me in your inbox (or in the Substack app), especially as a paying subscriber. This letter is for everyone, but for the next 28ish days, I’m going to be leaning into my paid audience a lot more. You can upgrade below if you care to climb over the paywall:

And it goes without saying but I’ll say it anyway — if you need a hard reset too, please join in my crusade. I’m happy to have you.

Oh, and Happy New Year.

xox,

— EGM