2.26.18

2018.

In the interest of accountability, I’ve once again chosen to memorialize my 2018 goals via blog. It’s also ten times more disastrous when they aren’t accomplished, but c’est la vie. If you’re looking for stop this or start that resolutions, this ain’t it. I’ve made stop smoking goals (I DID! WOO!) and lose weight goals (check), but I wanted to get a little more serious this year. Not so many tangible goals, but some introspective ones as well. 

Here we go.

Practice better communication. I tend to let people walk all over me. I’m a pleaser, but a pleaser to my own detriment. For as selfish as I can be, I’m surprised at how many times I refuse to put myself first. I can’t count the number of times I have bent over backwards to avoid taking the next step forward. Lemme tell ya, kitties, after a while, it wears on you. You wonder whether you’ve allowed yourself to be taken advantage of (you have), whether you let too much slide (you did), and if you’re, without doubt, the stupidest person to ever walk the earth (you feel like it, but you aren’t). Be it romantic, platonic, or professional, I’ve allowed situations to exhaust and drain me my entire adult life, simply because I’m too chickenshit to stand up for myself or voice when my feelings are hurt. I’m a grown-ass woman, and it’s about time I prioritize my feelings. Right? Right. 

Continue deeper into my health journey. I actually did stuff last year. This wasn’t just an empty promise from last New Year. I lost a little over twenty pounds in 2017. That ain’t gonna win me any Biggest Loser awards or anything, but to me, it’s a whole hell of a lot for someone with a small frame. I’m still a vegetarian and loving every moment of it. I’ve done Beachbody’s 21 Day Fix (starting another round today!) and commenced a yoga practice that I look forward to. I’ve started taking walks, simply because it’s a way to get out and clear my mind. I’m slowly weaning out dairy. I like researching ways to be healthier. For the first time, I feel pretty good. It’s nutso. I don’t want it to stop. 

Mindful drinking. Drinking is a weird subject for me. I touched on it here in 2017, but never much elaborated. Not without good reason, of course, as it’s personal and icky and I don’t always understand myself enough anyway. Here’s what I do know: I don’t feel like I want to drink Bud Light or well vodka at all. If I’m choosing to drink, I want it to be something that (1) I enjoy and appreciate, and (2) is worth the calories. Bud Light is for the end of tailgates and beer pong, and for as much as I have loved those things in the past, they are things in which I am no longer interested. A good dark beer or a craft cocktail at an interesting place? Sure. I think I’ve simply come to a point in which I no longer want to drink to just drink. I don’t want to drink to be drunk. This is where I’m at now — again, not really looking to give it up completely, but resolving that, if I’m going to take down a drink, it will be something I enjoy responsibly. There’s something to be said for a clear head and no post-drinking anxiety.

Unplug. Get my damn head out of my computer/phone/television/whatever and be a present force in my own life. Get outside, get moving, start doing, stop watching. Be a doer, not a speaker. 

Appreciate myself. For the first time in my grownup life, I don’t want to change anything about myself. I’m not ashamed of my perceived character flaws, and I better appreciate the small eccentricities that have shaped who I’ve become. Maybe it simply had to come with age, but I really like myself right now, even though I’ve been told my punctuality sucks (it does) and I’m super into Botox (because I’m vain). The me inside, though? I’m pretty content with her. And it turns out, she was okay all along, and her worst critic wasn’t the people who entertained themselves with her chaos or called her flighty — it was herself. Man, oh man, that’s a hard pill to swallow. If someone said the things to my sister that I say to myself, I’d be locked up for battery, but I’ve apparently had no issue with criticizing myself. For all of the confidence I put out, I was beating myself up behind the scenes. I’d been in an abusive relationship with my own soul. Not to say that the outside world is blameless — it isn’t. I mean, it’s one thing to receive and consider constructive criticism from those you trust; it’s quite another to let the bitches and their catty opinions shape your life. You can learn and grow from those who care about you pointing out things you might not notice, but fuck ’em and feed ’em fish heads if they don’t operate in your best interests. 

all that said … have I missed anything?

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