The New Year's Kiss (When You Wish Upon A Mirror Ball)

 Ten seconds until midnight.

I stood in that crowded bar, champagne glass in hand, surrounded by couples who were already leaning into each other, getting ready for that magical moment. The mirror ball overhead caught the light, scattering glitter across everyone's faces like stardust. The countdown started.

Ten... nine... eight...

My phone was in my other hand. I'd been checking it all night. He'd texted earlier: "Wish I could be there with you. Next year, I promise."

Seven... six... five...

I looked up at that spinning ball, and I did what desperate women do when they're out of options. I wished. I closed my eyes and wished so hard it hurt.

Please. Please let next year be different. Please let him be here with me. Please let me stop being alone.

Four... three... two... one...

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Everyone around me was kissing. I stood there, phone in hand, no message, staring up at that glitter ball like it might somehow save me from the truth I didn't want to face.

The Most Painful Night of the Year

Here's what nobody tells you about New Year's Eve when you're the other woman: it's not just another holiday. It's THE moment. The one night of the year that symbolizes fresh starts, new beginnings, being chosen. It's the night when everyone pairs up and you're left standing there feeling like a loser with nowhere to hide.

And when you're in love with someone who belongs to someone else, New Year's Eve becomes this crystallized moment of everything you don't have.

You watch the wife post photos of them together at their party. You see the champagne glasses clinking, the kiss at midnight, the caption about "starting another year with my love." And you? You're alone. Again. Or worse, you're at a party pretending to be fine while your heart is breaking.

The thing is, during the other 364 days of the year, you can negotiate with yourself. You can rationalize the situation. You can tell yourself that what you have is enough, that it's special precisely because it's just between the two of you. You can focus on the stolen moments, the intensity, the connection.

But New Year's Eve? It strips away every single excuse.

Because New Year's Eve is about permanence. It's about who you're building a future with. It's about who you're choosing to stand beside you as one year ends and another begins. And when he's not there (when he's never there) the message is painfully clear: you are not his future. You are his right now. His escape. His secret.

And that realization? It's devastating.

What You're Really Wishing For

That night at the bar, staring up at the mirror ball, I thought I knew what I wanted. I wanted him there with me. I wanted to be the woman on his arm. I wanted that midnight kiss, that public declaration, that proof that I mattered.

I wanted a permanent date for New Year's Eve.

But here's what I didn't understand then, what took me way too long to figure out: that wish was never really about him. It was about what I thought having him would give me.

Because what I actually wanted (what I was really, desperately aching for) wasn't him at all.

I wanted certainty. I wanted to stop living in constant anxiety about whether he'd text, whether he'd show up, whether this was all going to work out. I wanted to stop checking my phone every thirty seconds. I wanted to stop wondering if today would be the day he'd finally choose me or the day he'd end it. I was exhausted from living in perpetual uncertainty.

I wanted belonging. I wanted to stop feeling like a ghost in my own life. I wanted to stop hiding, lying to my friends and family about where I was and who I was seeing. I wanted to be able to post a photo without worrying who might see it. I wanted to exist fully, without having to erase myself to fit into someone else's secret.

I wanted confidence. Not the fake kind I put on when people asked why I was still single. Real confidence. The kind that comes from knowing your worth and not negotiating it away. The kind that doesn't depend on whether he texts you back or shows up when he says he will. The kind that means you're okay no matter what happens.

That's what I was really wishing for. Not him. But the life I thought having him would give me.

And honey, if you're out there right now wishing on your own mirror ball, hoping that next year will be different, hoping he'll finally leave, hoping you'll finally get that New Year's kiss, I need you to understand something crucial:

What if the Universe (God, or whatever you call it) gave you not what you wished for, but what you actually need?

The Gift You Didn't Ask For

I know that sounds like terrible news. You don't want to hear that maybe the universe isn't going to deliver him to your doorstep, transformed and ready to choose you. You want the fairy tale ending. You want him to realize what he's been missing. You want him there at midnight, kissing you, proving that all this pain was worth it.

But what if (just hear me out) what if the greatest gift you could receive is the one thing you've been avoiding?

The truth.

The truth that you already have everything you need to create certainty, belonging, and confidence. You don't need him to give those things to you. In fact, staying in this relationship is actively preventing you from having them.

Think about it:

You want certainty? Staying with a married man is the most uncertain situation possible. Will he leave? Won't he? Will today be a good day or a devastating one? You've traded your peace of mind for the promise of "someday." But you already have the power to create certainty by deciding what you will and won't accept, by choosing yourself, by walking away from situations that keep you in constant turmoil.

You want belonging? You'll never fully belong when you have to hide. You'll never belong in the shadows of someone else's real life. But you know where you do belong? In a relationship where you're celebrated, not concealed. In a life where you don't have to lie about who you love. In your own story, not as a supporting character in his.

You want confidence? It doesn't come from him choosing you. It comes from you choosing you. It comes from knowing you're valuable enough to require honesty, availability, and commitment, not someday, but now. It comes from walking away from situations that require you to dim your light so someone else can maintain their image.

The mirror ball can't give you him. But it can reflect back to you something far more powerful: your own strength. Your own worth. Your own ability to create the life you deserve.

The Midnight You Deserve

After that painful New Year's Eve, I finally got honest with myself about what I really wanted. And I realized that even if he did leave, even if he chose me, I still wouldn't have certainty, belonging, or confidence. Because I'd built my entire sense of self around winning someone over, around finally being enough to be chosen. That's not a foundation for anything real.

So I made a different kind of New Year's resolution. I decided that I was done wishing for things I couldn't control. I was done putting my happiness in someone else's hands. I was done waiting for permission to live my life fully.

I chose me.

It was hard. I won't lie. I cried. I grieved. I felt every ounce of the loss.

But I also felt something else. Something I hadn't felt in years.

Freedom.

I wasn't checking my phone every five minutes. I wasn't comparing myself to his wife. I wasn't pretending to be happy while dying inside. I wasn't performing for anyone. I was just... me. Whole. Present. Real.

And you know what's wild? That's when I actually started to find the things I'd been wishing for.

Certainty came from trusting myself, from knowing I could handle whatever came my way. Belonging came from living authentically, from not having to hide anymore. Confidence came from choosing my own worth over someone else's validation.

The mirror ball didn't give me what I wished for. It gave me something better.

Your Wish For This New Year

So here's what I want you to know as this year comes to a close and you're facing another New Year's Eve in a situation that's breaking your heart:

You are wishing for the wrong thing.

You're wishing for him to change. For circumstances to shift. For next year to somehow be different even though you're doing the same things, accepting the same treatment, hoping for the same outcome.

But what if, this year, you wished for something radical?

What if you wished for the courage to choose yourself? What if you wished for clarity instead of fantasy? What if you wished for the strength to walk away from what's hurting you, even though it's scary, even though you love him, even though you don't know what comes next?

What if you wished to become the kind of woman who doesn't need a man to complete her New Year's Eve because she's already complete on her own?

I know it sounds impossible. I know you think you can't do it. I know you believe this love is once-in-a-lifetime and you'll never find it again.

But I'm here to tell you: you're wrong. Not about your feelings being real (they are). But about this being your only shot at love, at happiness, at that midnight kiss that matters.

The truth is, the greatest love story you'll ever be part of is the one you write for yourself. The one where you're the main character, not a secret side plot. The one where you don't wait for someone else to choose you because you've already chosen yourself.

The Resolution That Changes Everything

This New Year, don't wish upon the mirror ball for him to show up.

Wish for the courage to show up for yourself.

Wish for the clarity to see the situation for what it really is.

Wish for the strength to walk toward the life you actually deserve instead of clinging to the fantasy of what you hope this might become.

Because here's what I know: on the other side of this painful ending is a beginning you can't even imagine yet. One where you're not hidden. Not waiting. Not wondering. Not wishing.

One where you're fully, gloriously, unapologetically yourself.

That's the New Year's kiss that's waiting for you. Not from him. But from you, to you. A promise to honor yourself, to value yourself, to choose yourself, not someday, not next year, but right now.

The mirror ball is spinning. The countdown is starting.

What are you going to wish for?

Ready to stop wishing and start living? I've been where you are, and I can show you the way out. Let's talk about what's really possible for your life. Book your consult and take the first step toward the freedom you deserve. Need help with the emotional surges that hit you in giant waves? Use Stop the Spiral to bring you back to calm. Your coach in your pocket.