Resolute

I've never been one for New Years resolutions. Like many, I find them somewhat discouraging and shame inducing because inevitably by about mid January, I've not only failed at what I've set out to do (work out everyday), but also have done exactly the opposite (sit on my couch and eat cake everyday).

Somewhere in my life journey, in a bid to battle the shame of failed resolutions, I developed the habit of determining goals for each year. They were somewhat broad in category and motivational in nature (Have more fun! Go on more dates! Be honest!). And then The Great Depression of 2009 happened and motivation just wasn't in the cards. All I wanted was to be able to get through the year without killing myself or others. And so, goals dissolved into hopes, as evidence by this post.

Quite honestly, I woke up on January 1, 2011 discouraged. There was something about realizing that all my issues from 2010 were still part of my life in 2011 that just felt, well, sad. The adult in me knows that issues don't just magically disappear once the calendar changes. The adult in me understands that there is nothing particularly magical about the end of one year and the start of another. The child in me, the one that wanted the magic, cried.

Many talk about the new year bringing clean slates and fresh starts. But in reality, it's not like at the stroke of midnight I miraculously become a different person. I'm still me on January 1, the me with all the trepidations, sorrows, ghosts, spite, pettiness, and absurdity of 2010, 2009, 2008, and a lifetime before that. The start can be fresh, but unless some of the darker parts of me get healing and resolution, one year is, sadly, going to be very much like the next.

I actually meant to write a funny post about my 11 Not To Dos in 2011. It was supposed to make you roll on the floor laughing, I promise. But sometimes, posts take on a life of their own, and things that are secretly crying out to be expressed find their way onto the screen in spite of what I plan to do. Funny how that happens when you write.

I guess there is still some magic left, afterall.