I used to believe in New Year’s Resolutions. Sort of like how I used to believe in Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and husbands who bring flowers home on Valentine’s Day without being told to.
I was totally into the ritual of it, too. On January 1st, I would sit down in my room and with the fanciest pen and paper at my disposal, I would write out my resolution for the year. Then it would go into a sealed envelope, and I would burn it over a candle flame. There wasn’t any real reason for the burning, but I’d seen someone do it in a Lifetime movie and thought it was cool. I was incredibly detailed about how I was to accomplish these goals, as well. One year, my resolution was to stop biting my lips, so my plan was wear a rubber band on my wrist. Every time I found myself biting my lips, I was to snap myself with the rubber band (the idea being to build negative association,) and take a drink of water, (to combat my secondary goal of loosing weight.) They were lofty goals, my resolutions.
And yet, here I am, 23 years old, I chew my lips until they bleed, I still don’t take enough pictures, and I’m still getting therapy from Dr Haagen-dazs when I get depressed. New Year’s resolutions indeed. When asked what my New Years resolution is this year, I tell people that my resolution is to stop putting pressure on myself by setting unattainable goals for myself. Or to be drunk more. They get about an equal response.
And yet, yet, I will admit, there is something about this time of year that lends itself to the desire for change. It’s that lethal combination of over-indulgence, time spent with family, and self-reflection that just…make you hate yourself. It’s sort of like that walk home from your TA’s apartment in early dawn that you spend thinking, “Holy shit…I am never going to drink again.” The last three weeks have been a beautiful dream of chocolate, cream cheese, brown sugar, and butter. No one judges you either, because hey, it’s the holidays! And then I go spend time with my family. Which is awesome! (Really, Mom.) But it’s also weird, because your old self that stayed back in your hometown and your new self that lives with your husband and your cats are suddenly trying to live together, and it’s weird. And suddenly, I’m extremely aware of the changes I’ve gone through, and who I’ve become. Which leads to an over-abundance of self-examination, and way too much time spent looking at my life. Which, eventually, ends in a long list of all the changes that I’d like to make in my life. Which, if you’re that type of person, might look suspiciously like a list of resolutions.
So we’re not making resolutions this year. But we have decided that we’d like to watch our weight and exercise more. We have planned to save up our money so we can buy a Wii. And we hope to travel more and take more pictures.
Looks like I’ve already broken my resolution not to make resolutions.