The clock strikes midnight on December 31st, 2013. Suddenly, as if our very own fairy godmother waved her wand, a sprinkling of confetti, a toast of champagne, and a kiss absolves us from the errors of our previous year and the slate is wiped clean. It’s as easy as that.
Our minds are reprogrammed and our resolutions are fiercely inbred – we can take on the world! All our troubles will be no more, we will eat clean, we will get active, we will write more, read more books, follow our plans and achieve our dreams – things that were deemed IMPOSSIBLE the day BEFORE – all these things are possible now, because the calendar insists it is the first day of the year.
A new beginning.
Don’t you feel renewed? Refreshed? Ready to take on dragons and creatures that live under our beds?
I couldn’t agree more.
Call me cynical, call me sarcastic, call me old.
I hardy believe that with the changing of a calendar we are suddenly washed clean of all the things we didn’t accomplish the year before and that we’re ready to take on remarkable challenges.
The significance of a ‘new year’ has changed in my mind.
2013 was not a year to remember. It wasn’t horrible and it wasn’t extraordinary, it was a year of ups and downs and I realise that there will be many, many more of these types of years to come.
Years where I find myself thinking: I should be more positive! I should be more grateful! I should be thankful for all the ordinary things that happen in day to day life!
And I am. I don’t take it for granted, not at all. My life and all of its’ ups and downs, it’s trivial matters, it’s boring matters, the people in it – I’m grateful for it all. However, I’ve realised that looking back on this year, there will be more years like this.
Money challenges. Emotional and well-being challenges. Family problems. Social issues. Things that happen for a reason and things that just happen for no reason at all. People fall into my life and out of it just as quickly after I realise their character is not one I want in my life.
After these past few years, I realise that the days are going to keep going by and that if I don’t do something with them, they will keep on going. Wheels keep turning, seasons pass, time doesn’t stop, not for me, not anyone else.
There is no ‘Day 1’ of the rest of your life – you either look at every day as the first day of the rest of your life, or you realise that this is just Day No. 10,949 of your life – what are you going to do with it? How am I going to make this day count? Am I going to shine today?
This year I am not writing out my goals on a pretty piece of stationary with my most favourite pen.
I do that every year, because I’ve read that if you write down your goals you have a greater chance of achieving them, but I have not as of yet achieved any of them.
I’ve realised that I have a bit of a self-destructive appetite – I enjoy what makes me happy right here and now, without concern for future or past – and how do you change that? It’s my chief feature. If that’s my character flaw in my self-written book – how do I overcome it? Is it even possible?
I stand in my own way. I stand in the way of achieving my goals and hopes and dreams. I get stubborn. I put on arrogant fronts and decide that either I must do something perfectly or not at all. And doing something perfectly requires such time and precision that it never gets finished.
I’ve created my own holding pattern, I’ve been doing this for years and years. I’ve come to recognize these behaviours in myself only these past couple of years, with depression and anxiety and life habits spiraling out of control. With my husband having his own issues that are above and beyond the ones that exist in my head.
So tell me, how is January 1st, with its’ lovely list of resolutions and its’ clean slate, going to make everything OKAY again?
How is it going to make anything better?
Easy answer: It won’t.
It starts with me.
It starts with me, every single morning. I decide whether or not I want to take the steps to achieve my goals. I decide whether I keep climbing the mountain, if I lay stagnant or if I fall back a few steps.
It lays in my hands alone, every single freakin’ day I get out of bed in the morning.