In two weeks it will be New Year’s Day. A host of New Year’s resolutions will flit around the world in thoughts, journals, blogs—probably mostly Western—as privileged (those who have enough basic necessities that they CAN do this) people arise determined to eat better, exercise more, read more, connect with people more. There are books and articles written about resolutions that almost uniformly say that most resolutions are “broken” within days. Not least because so many people have a big New Year’s Day feast and then sink, semi-comatose, on the couch to watch TV or, which would probably be better, to chat in a desultory way with family and friends.
Resolutions can really occur at any time though. I should know, I make them virtually every day to, yes, eat better, exercise more, read more, etc…. And that’s actually not a bad thing, the getting up every morning and starting over again. It proves we’re still hopeful, we still have some determination. The problem is if we get up every day for an entire year and find ourselves months later in somewhat the same place—at least in terms of the eating better, exercising more. If we find ourselves feeling frustrated over the very same things. Or at least if we THINK we haven’t made any progress. And so we put those good resolutions aside for a day while we binge on food or distracting behavior. Because we think that it doesn’t matter, that one little day. Because what’s one more day of failure?
But the idea of “failure” is not true, at least speaking for myself. I am my own worst critic. I THINK that I haven’t made any progress on the “being healthy” but, thanks to my journaling, I’ve discovered that really isn’t true (pounding it home to my stubborn, critical, brain.) In January of this year, I weighed five pounds more than I do now. During this year I’ve managed to creep down below the “obese” needle to the “overweight” one. And that was hard work. Celebrate! I have walked miles and miles and miles both literally and in my exercise group. Celebrate! I read 65 books this year, more than a book a week. Celebrate! So what if I am not a published writer, I am still a writer. Celebrate! I wrote thousands of words in book reviews, journals, emails. I did hours and hours of genealogy work which I loved to do and which was appreciated by several people, Celebrate! I fulfilled my obligations to other people—turned up for substitute teaching and did my best, visited and helped when I said I would, researched questions, helped Laurie with her university courses (almost done, one more semester, hallelujah!), made Richard’s life better, was there for Mitzi in her last moments and now take care of Belle. Celebrate!
Yes, every morning I begin again. I don’t necessarily make “new” resolutions, I just have to bring those “big rock” resolutions I’ve listed in the paragraph above, into daily actions. If I want to weigh (at least) five pounds less by next December, well, I know what works and every day can move me toward that. Walking miles and miles starts with—excuse the cliche—one step at a time. Daily. Choosing to go for a walk when I am feeling discouraged instead of the iPad and another mystery show. Ditto for reading. Somehow it’s difficult to read when I am feeling depressed. An interesting subject to explore perhaps. How the mind can be so stalled that even the promise of a favorite author’s new book can’t prompt me to open it. Wish the same could be said about opening the cupboard or refrigerator…. That same stalled feeling goes for writing. I have a shelf full of books on writing but, hah, I haven’t actually read them. Reading and writing go hand in hand.
Obligations to others—that one I think I am coming to peace with. I don’t feel comfortable in groups: I am so opinionated (but self-consciously opinionated which I haven’t found any articles on) that going to meetings and serving on committees are my least favorite things in the world. Right up there with dusting and scrubbing the bathtub. I tell myself that I did my time in the workplace with that. And, maybe I have. The world turns without me in that department. So I am working on just being peaceful about it. Of thinking before I open my mouth to either say yes or no in those instances where someone actually asks me to participate in the dreaded groups or committees. Weighing what that yes or no means and whether it is, in essence, kind to myself and/or kind to others.
And so the day begins again. And so do I.
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