The new year is upon us and so are the thousands of posts asking, “What’s your New Years Resolution?”
Truth? I’m not making one.
Why? Because I fail at enough without adding to the mix.
Now, before you go thinking this is a woe-is-me or sad post—it’s not. It’s the opposite, actually.
The first of the year brings so much pressure. It feels like the start of something new—new weather patterns a lot of the time here in Indiana. New grading periods for my kids. New calendars to fill with obligations. New struggles getting in and out of the house with winter gear for all four boys plus me. Projecting a new something-something into the world at this moment in time feels … overwhelming. It feels like a failure before I even start.
I watch people make promises to themselves to be the new them or to recalibrate their entire life the minute they wake up on the first, but me? Meh. I can’t. I’m not that girl. And, you know what? It’s okay.
It’s okay if you don’t feel up to swearing off carbs forever. It’s totally fine if you aren’t committed to exercising for thirty minutes every day or to never yelling at your kids again. This past year was a doozy for a lot of us. It’s not only okay, but commend-worthy, to be gentle with yourself.
I hope I can find my wits in the upcoming weeks and can figure out how to go about losing weight in the healthiest way for me. (And that probably won’t be keto. #sorrynotsorry) There’s a part of me that hopes I can finagle a way to get our closets organized by, say, Spring, and I really hope to have these books finished on time. But after this last year, I’ve learned I might not. And there are bigger fish to fry. And, even more so, at the end of the day, if the kids and husband and I are happy—victory is ours.
So, here’s to all you trailblazers resolving to change the world! And here’s to the rest of us, just as much, that are acknowledging we don’t have it in us to do anything but keep everyone alive another week. We all rock. <3
Happy 2019, everyone. God bless you.