I’m not really sure that I’m a fan of New Year’s resolutions. It’s the whole connotation that a certain transformation needs to happen at a certain date and time. When the stroke of midnight chimes on January first, we will transform into this new and improved version of ourselves. The opposite of Cinderella. Instead of our coach turning into a pumpkin and our dress sparkling away into fairy dust and our glass slipper falling off our feet, we must somehow turn into the better us. The princess version. Reverse of what happens to our girl at midnight.
And of course there’s the notion that we aren’t perfect to begin with. That the default is imperfection. As a whole we’ve decided this.
I whole-heartedly believe in the saying,” nobody is perfect.” Or at least not a “model of perfection.” But possibly could it be true that we already are the best version of ourselves? I mean we do with what we can. Being the best version of ourselves right now doesn’t necessarily mean we’re done growing and changing and transforming, or anywhere near faultless. But maybe that we are where we can be.
When I look within, I feel that I am not the best version of myself. I know I’m not. Am I doing the best that I can right now? Maybe. If I knew that answer then, I would be.
We all know crash diets don’t work and cutting things out cold turkey is often riddled with failure and painful detox. We mustn’t think of the way we eat as a diet, because a diet suggests a temporary fix with an end to the tricks and the smoke and mirrors and drastic changes that we’ve made to our default mode. Diets suggest binge fasting and doing without for a limited period of time where we reach a goal then shed the painful period of doing without. We all dream that the diet will end and we’ll be skinny and happy and back to the way it was.
Which reminds me of lent. A temporary shedding of sin. And New Year’s resolution is somewhere in there. Somewhere tucked in between sin and vice and abstaining and taking on more than one can chew. Or chewing less. I can’t decide.
It’s all about doing less or doing more.
I want to read more, yell less, write more, eat less. Basically do a 180 on everything I do. Improve every last nook and cranny that is making me not the perfect version of myself. Or else the New Year is a bust and I’m a failure.
Can I crash into this new diet, can I detox without relapse? Can I not be me, but the fantasy version of me? Can I reverse Cinderella?
It’s a lot of pressure to even begin. To choose that all-mighty resolution. To pick the best thing to be and make it so.
And how did we begin this tradition of decide we aren’t good enough to enjoy another year? That as a tradition we need to search for things that aren’t ok?
The idea of settling on resolutions is making me itchy and I’m needing to reject this course of action. But then where does that leave me and the things that do need to improve? I know that fairy dust from magical God-Mothers isn’t going to help me out with this trick.. I’ll have to just find my own way in my own time. No clock needed.