*Please pardon the mess, I’m doing a little remodeling on the blog and it’s a work in progress.*
Elizabeth Gilbert wrote, “I’ve never seen any life transformation that didn’t begin with the person in question finally getting tired of their own bullshit.” Hmm. Well, how ’bout that. That is absolutely 100% correct. Truth be told, though, while I am tired of my own bullshit in some regards, I’m not too shabby in others (and have just the right amount of bullshit, thankyouverymuch). My friend Sarah introduced me to the below quote on New Year’s Eve and I boo-hoo’d over it.
(image credit: Emily McDowell)
No one will ever argue with you about bettering yourself. If you want to make positive changes, you get on with your bad self. But that doesn’t mean that the old you was a gross shitpile, either, just because you weren’t working out five times a week and didn’t survive on quinoa and kale and couldn’t save any money (I actually wrote about this last year too, if you wanna read it). There is some middle ground on the Personal Growth Shit-o-meter between Garbage Person and Stepford Wife, and falling in that group is just fine. That doesn’t make you a failure, it makes you like basically everyone else.
I don’t remember where I heard it first, but I constantly repeat that I will “hold myself to a standard of grace, not perfection.” Even saying it now, it serves as a reminder. It’s like I forget once a day that I don’t have to be perfect; in fact, no one expects me to be perfect — except me. Silly, right? A victim of the disappointment of my own making. No one will ever critique me as much as I do it to myself, and while it’s necessary in certain situations, it’s high time I’m a little easier on myself.
When I sat down to make my resolutions for this year — call them resolutions, goals, commitments, a to do list, what have you — I started out with one word ringing in my brain: SIMPLIFY. I have a nasty habit of making things harder than they ever should be. I analyze to the point of paralysis. I overwhelm myself with clutter, in both my house and my head. I look at the tangible things I “need,” not ever stopping to ask myself why I need them. This year, I want to be intentional with my words and actions, motivated by the need to simplify everything around me.
(image credit: Monica May at Fit Girl’s Diary)
Begin the year with a clear mind. It’s easier to make plans with clear thoughts, right? Easier to direct yourself and your visions when you can see straight. For me, that means to spend January without alcohol. I did this last year (Sober October, anyone?) and I ended up liking it more than I had envisioned. My skin was clear, my eyes were bright, and my mind was sharp. I slept better and I had more energy. You’d think all of that would have been reason enough to never go back, but alas, the grape siren beckoned and I eventually succumbed to her song. This time, though? This time, I’m holding on to that feeling for a little while. Who knows, maybe it will stick.
Make my best effort to schedule these each month:
- a lunch date with a friend
- a Skype/phone date with someone who doesn’t live around me
- 24 hours without social media
- a day outdoors
- a date night (even if it’s just by yo’self!)
- a breakfast meetup
- a movie night
- a day of serving others
- a day to myself
Does anyone else have trouble relaxing unless it’s mindlessly staring into the television? (just me? k). Seriously, it’s a little ridiculous. Also, I’d like to see more people and cultivate/rekindle/nurse friendships, but going sober limits a lot of “happy hour”-type activities, so when I saw this idea online without even a mention of a cocktail, I thought it would be perfect to try. It may be a little ambitious, but I’m going to give it a whirl this month and just see how it turns out.
(also, if you want in on any of those, let me know … I’m also looking to make new friends this year 🙃)
Learn to take care of it on the front end so I don’t have to fix it on the back end. Whatever “it” may be. Y’all notice how we very often have the habit of half-assing something we dread doing, only to have to whole-ass it on the back end? And usually with extra work to undo the half-assing? (I’m “-assing” a lot, but bear with me) My point is that it always takes less effort to do it right the first time than it does to screw around with it then have to do it all again the second time. It’s a lesson I’ve learned approximately 395,084 times, but somehow still manage to #procrastinate and then sometimes squeak by. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t give up my beloved procrastination any time soon (it is my greatest motivator), but making one trip around a task sounds better and better all the time.
Invest in myself and my passions. With all the time and money I’m saving on booze and happy hours, I may as well flip some of it into myself and what I love. Nothing extravagant (after all, I would like to save some of that money too), but I’d like to invest in myself a little. The hydrafacial, a massage here and there, maybe someday a Peloton, an online course. Find my passion, and feed it.
(image credit: Dani DiPirro at Positively Present)
I’ll turn thirty-five years old on April 7, 2019 (*yoiks*). That doesn’t even seem like reality. Sometimes I wonder where the time goes, until I remember that I’ve managed to squeeze quite a bit in to almost thirty-five years. I may not be twenty anymore, but I don’t know that you could pay me to be twenty again. A lot of learning goes down in that long stretch between twenty and thirty-five, and I’m so happy I lived to learn it.
I’m learning to do the things I like, the things that feed me, and say no to what I don’t like. To trust myself and my intuition because I’m smart and I’ve most likely seen a lot of this shit before (and because the gal who read my star chart said I was on the cusp of having some psychic energy, so booyah). To forgive people, starting with myself. To value the quiet. To remember that pettiness is only cute in a Tumblr meme. To listen. To learn. To simplify. To simplify.
To make 2019 a year of pride and triumph.
The Year of the Ty-Ger.
Go get ’em, kitties.