Probably it’s no surprise to a lot of you when I admit this: I LOVE making New Year Resolutions.
It makes the OCD me happy.
I love the promise of a new year, the idea that I could be anything I want to be or do anything I want to do – I just need to focus on what it is I want out of a new year.
It’s goal setting at its finest. Want to be less tired? Resolve to sleep more, and actually start going to bed earlier. Want to run a marathon? Just go ahead and sign up. Want to lose weight? Start tracking what goes into your mouth and work out more.
The problem with New Years Resolutions for someone like me is that you start to confuse your self-worth with accomplishing stuff as part of your resolutions. My Inner Critic needs a steady diet of New Year Resolutions to stay happy, so I start thinking in October or so… So what are you going to do THIS year, Karen? You ran that marathon, lost weight, are less tired. Now what?
And then, on New Year’s Eve, she’ll actually pick apart the accomplishments I did have in a given year. You ran a marathon? HA! More like ran 18 miles then walked the rest. You lost weight? Hey, great, except if you lost about 5 more pounds you’d stop being in-between sizes. And let’s not forget the 30-Day No Yelling Challenge. You made it, what, two days without yelling?
Last year, for the first year, I made Not Resolutions instead. I called them Not Resolutions, but they were kind of resolutions.
There were two on the list. And I was successful at 50% of them.
Hey, 50/50 is pretty decent, right?
Except it was EASY to not diet. That second one, saying no more, was kind of important. Blew that one, Kar!
And see, that’s the thing. You make resolutions, you keep them and say, hey, what a good year! (Or in my case, you say, Hey, a decent year, but maybe next year you could do a little better, yeah?)
Or you don’t, and they become an exercise in frustration. I want to be different somehow, but eh, it’s a resolution, and no one really keeps them anyway.
So no resolutions for me this year. I’m tired of doing stuff for my Inner Critic, trying to prove I’m enough: good enough or thin enough or smart enough or successful enough. Not this year.
2015 is the year of I am enough.
Here’s to the new year.