Resolution Reboot
I confess I tend to shun New Year’s resolutions. Too many years of toxic diet culture and whatnot. But I’ve come around to seeing the transition to a new year, with the creep of winter ever so slowly toward spring, as a time to reflect and take stock and, in turn, correct course.
For me, that takes the shape of tapping into my creative self. And I don’t mean the one hurtling to the next manuscript deadline, though that’s not entirely apart from it. I mean the one who dreams big, the one who finds the courage to imagine a big, bold, outside-the-lines life. Who puts in the work to make it happen.
Typically, this sort of exercise involves a new planner, some very impressive Pintererst boards, and peak manager mode. I was recently challenged, however, to focus more on the dreams part. The what-would-life-look-like part and the how-would-it feel part. You know, less to-do list and more deepest longings of the heart.
Big stuff. Good stuff. The stuff that, ironically, turns out to be scary as fuck. Because making it concrete feels like a dance with the devil. And by devil, I mean disappointment.
But it’s really hard to work toward something amorphous. Even harder to maintain motivation when the slings and arrows of life land heavy. And maybe most importantly, it’s hard to stop and celebrate the wins if you’re not even sure what they are.
So, anyway. I’m all in. My resolution is to want what I want. To embrace it, celebrate it, and not let the fear of failure keep me tied to some watered-down, modest, bull shit version of it.
