Throw yourself a party!

On celebrating non-traditional life milestones, my one-year sobriety birthday party, and what I want more of in 2024

My pitch: We should all be throwing ourselves more parties.

And not just for the usual suspects: birthdays, engagements, weddings, and babies. Those are occasions worth celebrating, certainly—but are they the only ones? 

What we celebrate, we incentivize.

Most existing cultural rituals are centered around traditional milestones like marriage and parenthood because those are things our society holds in high regard. What we celebrate, we incentivize. (While I’m on record as skeptical that these institutions are right for everyone, it must also be said that I’ve been the beneficiary of an engagement party and several bridal showers, so thank you to everyone who has purchased me a toaster or air fryer.)

Celebrations are a way of saying: Yes, more of this. They show what we value.

But the list of what I value goes far beyond what we have existing cultural rituals for. My list would include creative breakthroughs, yoga teacher certifications, friendship anniversaries, sobriety birthdays, running a marathon, ending a relationship, book deals, book launches, and all other manner of personal and collective flourishing.

These are the things I want more of in my life and the lives of the people I love. These are worth celebrating!

So when I noticed I had two big milestones converging on the same weekend — my one-year sobriety birthday and my recent essay publication — it sounded like an excuse for a party. After all, we must model the behavior we want to see in the world. And I want to see more people celebrating non-traditional life milestones. 

If I must be the selfless martyr who paves the way, so be it.

Why I stopped drinking

The Art of Gathering

This whole preamble is all to justify the fact that, in July, I threw myself a party. And I made a kind of big deal of it.

I love being celebrated. I thrive on affirmation. Basically everything I’ve done in life has been in pursuit of finally hearing someone say: “Wow, Lane. Well done.” I’ve gotten more comfortable being that person for myself, which feels like progress. 

Still, there’s something distinctly asking your friends for affirmation and support. (Be seen wanting? You know that’s an issue for me.) So I turned to the experts to help plan my perfect party.

The Art of Gathering by Priya Parker is a book about how to bring people together in an intentional, meaningful way. Rather than hosting a vague event, she says, gatherings can become transformative experiences that leave a lasting impact on guests and hosts alike. Among her many hosting principles, three stand out: defining a purpose, curating your guest list, and creating a (temporary) alternate reality.

1. Set a clear purpose

Parker says that to gather well, your event needs a clear purpose, born from a core belief or value that is the reason for bringing people together. Your purpose must answer the question: How will this gathering change people? But no pressure.

“Reverse engineer an outcome: Think of what you want to be different because you gathered, and work backward from that outcome.”

With this party, the thing I wanted to celebrate wasn’t just ticking off a goal or reaching an arbitrary milestone. It was the decision I made to leave behind something that wasn’t serving me (alcohol) to make room for the things I truly valued (writing, creativity, and community).

My core value: When we take time to reflect on our lives, and to be honest with ourselves about what’s working and what’s not, we give ourselves the gift of clarity — and a chance to make changes that bring our lives in line with our values.

How could I create an event that reflected that experience, and invited my guests into it? 

I decided on an intimate dinner party with conversation prompts that would guide the night’s discussion. The gathering was planned for the first weekend of July, a handy mid-point in the year and the perfect time for reflection. I would ask each guest to come prepared with:

• something they wanted to leave behind in the first six months of the year

• something they wanted to take with them into the next six months

• a favorite quote, poem, or prose snippet to share with the group

2. Curate your invite (and non-invite) list

Once you know what your event’s purpose is, every element of the evening should point back to it. This includes who’s there — and, more importantly, who’s not. In Parker’s world, the non-invite is just as important as the actual guest list. She calls this generous exclusion.

“If everyone is invited, no one is invited—in the sense of being truly held by the group. By closing the door, you create the room.”

Initially, I imagined my party as a massive, ambient summer cookout with all of my friends, enemies, and crushes. After all, we were celebrating! A party’s success is judged by the number of people you could get to show up, right?

But since my purpose was creating an intimate space for reflection, a house party didn’t quite fit the bill. What I craved was deep conversation and connection with the small handful of people who had played an active role in getting where I was.

My guest list: The close friends and family who had provided the emotional foundation I needed to take risks and be vulnerable. The creative community that had guided me, edited my work, and rooted for me.

These were the folks who had supported, encouraged, and advised me at pivotal points in both my sobriety and writing journeys. All of them had played a role in making the past year possible. I wanted to use this event to say thank you.

I sent out the invite and RSVPs poured in immediately. Turns out, people are thrilled to be able to celebrate their friend’s accomplishments! Who would have thought.

3. Create a temporary alternative world

Hosting is no small feat, especially for an outdoor event on a 90º July day in Nashville. I borrowed fans from my local Buy Nothing group, bought Maypop seltzers from the farmer’s market, and catered dinner from the local Mexican spot. My guests brought flowers, chocolate, and an impressive array of fizzy non-alcoholic drinks. 

We laid out a tablecloth and lit candles. Over dinner, each guest — many of whom were strangers to one another — opened up. They shared what they were leaving behind in the first half of 2024 (medium friends, screen time, closing themselves off, scarcity) and what they were taking into the rest of the year (flirting, presence, good discomfort, creativity, solitude, abundance).

Each person ended with a passage from their chosen reading, which was my favorite part of the night. I felt so loved and understood by the selections people read. From Audre Lorde’s “Uses of the Erotic” to Mary Karr’s Lit to poems and quotes and whole chapters of books that reminded me how well these friends know me.

These friends have seen me change. They have seen me try. They have seen me struggle, fail, and occasionally succeed. Gathering this group around a table in thoughtful, vulnerable conversation was a highlight of my year so far. Well worth the light humiliation of asking people to attend a party I planned for myself.

As the evening wound down, I shared this final quote:

“The ultimate touchstone of friendship is not improvement, neither of the other nor of the self, the ultimate touchstone is witness, the privilege of having been seen by someone and the equal privilege of being granted the sight of the essence of another, to have walked with them and to have believed in them, sometimes just to have accompanied them for however brief a span, on a journey impossible to accomplish alone.” – David Whyte

Yes. More of that. •

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Let me know in the comments: What are you leaving in the first half of 2024? What are you taking into the next six months? What parties will you be throwing yourself—and am I invited?