It's the last day of 2009 and as I sit in my warm apartment next to my odd little dog watching the rain-snow hybrid that may or may not impede today's travel plans, it seems the right time to make resolutions. I have one this year: to do everything a little bit better. Everything. I want to work better, write better, make better coffee, cancel fewer appointments, take my vitamins more often than not, drink less, exercise more, take Louie on longer walks, sleep better, be more patient, cook a little bit, watch better movies, read more, keep better tabs on my money, speak better French, learn more Russian, and so on. I have the dubious advantage of turning a new year at the same time as most of the western world, and a few nights ago I rang in the end of my 30s with a great group of friends old and new. And a very diverse group. And it's times like these -- as well as the lovely, intimate Christmas I had with my family -- that I realize what a tremendous amount I actually have if I could just trust it, nurture it, and stop being paralyzed by imperfection.
I will always have my dark side but it needn't have me -- I can weather the lows as gracefully as I can the highs; at this point it's a choice. I know so well what it feels like to hibernate, to shut down productivity because, well, I have this thing that's wrong with me sometimes where my moods don't fit the situation at hand and much easier to hide under my pillows than it is to face the world. I do dysfunctional beautifully -- I'm a pro -- and I don't think I need to prove this anymore so that the world cuts me some slack. I've been given plenty of slack. It's time to move onto the next phase.
Part of this is being kinder and more patient with myself. Somewhere along the way I adopted this all or nothing attitude without really thinking it through. I don't consciously decide after, say, not working out for two weeks that I will see how slothlike I can become before something (event? reunion? vacation?) forces me to "get in shape" in a hurry and I become obsessive about it. Nor do I decide after month or two of avoiding my novel-in-progress that I will wait another four months until, in a fit of confidence I read over the last bit I've written and realize it isn't actually terrible.
In the interest of being realistic, I am not going to resolve to work out five days a week/write 500 words a day/ update this thing every day/ never spend another day wallowing in chemical imbalance and hiding from the world ... instead, I resolve to do the good things more often and the "bad" things less. And maybe in treating myself better, I'll be a better friend/daughter/sister/mom/girlfriend/tenant/neighbor than ever before.
I wish for all of you a 2010 that shines with inspiration and possibility and the strength and patience to make it work for you.
4 comments:
'Just breathe', I used to say to K before she left and then to myself after. Also, 'Be gentle'. Like a mantra.
Post-9/11, it was 'Don't let me go'. This, to God.
And a long time ago someone wrote me, 'What you feed will grow', and I think of this every single day of my life.
Be gentle, LB. Love to you this new year and always. And always.
Thank you for that. It brought tears to my eyes, though everything does this time of year. You're a lovely new friend.
You're a mom?
In a human-canine sense, that is.
I was feeling a bit dramatic that day.
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