new year resolutions Archives

Ah, a new year. Here we are, in the space between exhaustion of the holidays and the vast bleakness that is January in the Northeast. I don’t need to spell out why 2020 was an absolute disaster for everyone. History textbooks are going to need a whole chapter for this one.

It wasn’t all bad. I participated in the collective panic and boredom. I doom scrolled. I baked bread, made Dalonga coffee, watched Tiger King, cleaned all the closets, Netflix-d to my heart’s content. I took time to educate myself on BLM. I stayed up all night watching Steve Kornacki punching numbers and cried a week later when the election was called.

I watched the numbers curve and dip and soar. I washed my hands and wore my mask.

It was a long year.

2019 was boring. 2020 was supposed to be better. I look back at my list of ‘resolutions’ for 2020 and laugh. Please share in my amusement:

Visit a new state (cancelled)
Go to church more (cancelled)
Visit my Grandfather more (um, so cancelled)
Throw a party (very cancelled)
Have more experiences (to be fair I did get to a museum, national dog show and sporting event before lockdown)

Hilarious, right? If only I knew. I remember I intentionally did not put down “get pregnant” as not to jinx my chances. Of course, I ended up (happily!) pregnant at the beginning of March, which you can read about here. I’m wary of setting any expectation for the year ahead.

My husband and I usually go to the same party every year. There’s amazing buffalo dip and friends. This year there was no party, no dip. We made pizza in our new Breville pizza maker (10/10 recommend). I drank some nasty sparkling grape juice. We watched Shark Tank until 11:59 when we switched to Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve. The ball dropped and New York, New York played. I got my New Year’s kiss.

It was midnight and nothing changed. I didn’t change.

I usually love New Year’s. It gives us permission to say that we have room for improvement, that we haven’t been perfect. It shows us that we crave change. Discipline.

I am in desperate need of discipline. I’ve had this blog since 2016. Every year I tell myself I’m going to put in the effort to make it into something, whatever that is.

The Bill Phillips quote “the difference between who you are and who you want to be, is what you do” rings true. It’s the only inspirational quote I’ll ever prescribe.

The only difference between this blog being a bi-monthly dumping ground and an actual vessel for my thoughts and recommendations is me. What a terribly freeing thought that is.

I always tell myself I’m going to insert action more. I’m going to walk more. Read more. Cook more. Laugh more. Write more. Today I ask myself, if not now, when?

We all have moments of if not now, when? This blog and 2021 are mine.

Do you have something you love to do, but put on the backburner? Let me know below.

Humbly,

Happy New Year! I’m hoping 2018 will be one for the books. I learned so many lessons in 2017, especially with friendships and self-love. I want to take this blog further this year. I want to discover more. I want to save more money because it’s about damn time I start facing the future. Further, more, future – all these ambitious expectations…

The past few months I’ve been wrapped up in the future. I’ve been projecting and planning and wishing for a fortune teller with a crystal ball to tell me that everything I’m hoping for will come true. I’ve been thinking about business, babies, retirement. But, I had a dream about going back into treatment last night and I coincidentally read a blog post about that treatment center (you can read the post here). I forgot that this is a gift, a life I almost didn’t have.

I went to rehab for anorexia in October-December 2013. I was in outpatient, therapy, what have you for a little while after that. I’ve been clean since September 2014 and I’ve been working my butt off to have a life worth living. A few years ago I wasn’t thinking about babies, let alone able to have one. I wasn’t concerned with taxes or BPAs or clipping coupons.

I used to worry about passing out while driving. I used to worry about how I would cope with the feelings that went along with eating more than 500 calories a day. I used to worry about my heart giving out and dying in my sleep. I had no future. It was like that saying, “dead but not buried”. In retrospect that all scares the heck out of me.

Something shifted, I hit a spiritual bottom and some power greater than myself helped me reach help. I had just enough hope left that was able to change the things I was doing and in turn the way I was thinking. Sometimes I feel like I’m behind my peers, or just behind in general. That diseased voice squeaks “not good enough”
whenever it gets the chance. But when I compare where I am now to where I was for my late teens, I’ve grown immensely. I’m pretty damn happy, which is more than anyone can ask for.

My point with this post is not to belittle the problems or worries I have now, but to remind myself about the power of perspective. I think perspective is the most valuable tool for those of us in recovery. So, that’s going to be my word for 2018. I’m going to treasure the time I have with others, my last months before the wedding, the quiet moments when God seeps in. I’m going to soak it in. After all, it doesn’t have to be this good.

Wishing you every happiness in 2018.

If Not Now, When?

Bringing Perspective into 2018