New Years Eve is kind of like your first date with a bad boy: you get all dolled up, drink to calm your nerves and after midnight, it’s a just a whole lot of hype and disappointment. Seriously.
(I think we should all share a collective giggle that my mother just read that line and is about to call my house to ream me out for unlady-like misconduct).
New Years Eve is just one night and while it is important to celebrate the year that was; I am already focused on the delicious year ahead. I’ll take mine shaken, not stirred. My obsessive-compulsive keenness needs to be buffed with some raw energy of refreshing risk and unpredictable outcomes. This is the year I shatter old structures, rutted patterns and cruise control habits and thrust into gear, busting into new molds that are as malleable and stretchable as my beloved yoga pants, (seriously, invest in yoga pants).
Never mind self-help, this is the year of self-care. The oxygen mask goes on me first and I’ll inhale as deeply as I please, because when Mommy has energy stuff gets done, big stuff, important things like anchoring her family in any storm. And it’s about to get windy.
It may sound cliché, but my goal is to get grounded, I’m talking big roots into the earth so deep that the biggest storms won’t shake my core. They just won’t. Know why? Because I have finally arrived at that sweet spot in life where you realize you actually have the power, in whatever the word means to you, to decide, to choose, to change. I’m going to stop questioning the meaning of life and start finding it. Define divine, by my own terms and commit. Pray hard. Be grateful. Love it. Seriously.
I want to accomplish the things I’ve wanted to do since I was a child. I will write the book. I will make the time. I will be there when it counts. I will be the friend I want to have, and I’ll start with me. Laughter will replace anxiety. Money won’t control the outcome. I will let things roll off my back if I have to craft my own turtle shell to do it. I’m going to raise the bar and dance on it. Seriously.
And I’m going to make mistakes, big lavish ones. So be it. Life and learn, not crash and burn. Your friends may have your back but they can’t fight your battles for you. You have to stand on guard for thee. Life takes courage, great big heaps of courage. You have to care enough to know you deserve better. Show respect, even if it’s not warranted. Self-respect is worth it every time, seriously.
Forgive. Don’t relive. Destroy the replay tapes. Drop your weapons. The crime isn’t worth the time. Slings and arrows miss their target when you stop being that target. You may never forget, but for sake of every Cancer-fighting cell in your body, let it go. Seriously. This is the year I build bridges and let the water roll on underneath to flush out the past. I could die tomorrow; so could you. Let’s not carry other people’s baggage. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.
Don’t roll your eyes at me. This isn’t psychobabble. Nobody is going to change your life for you. It’s not their job. And me? This is my year. Seriously.
Writing has been my passion since I learned how to hold a pencil (which I still cannot do properly). Despite my father’s insistence that I would starve to death in this career, I remain well fed and eager to write more. They say you should do what you love: I love to write.