The new year is deliciously pristine, isn’t it? I tend to approach the month of January the way I enter my car after one of those rare occasions when I’ve vacuumed up all the leaves, Goldfish crackers, and various detritus from the floor mats: I’m delighted by the newness, and I’m anxious about making it dirty again.
Right now many of us are on our very best behavior, perhaps like the first time we met our partner’s family. We can resist our urges and keep the act up for a few days, maybe a few weeks, but eventually, there’s going to be a a bump in the road, a reality check. There will be more Goldfish crackers on the carpet.
As a recovering productivity junkie, my theme for 2019 is release. Releasing myself from unrealistic expectations, perfectionism, and my clinging to them. In my desperate attempt to release, I already catch myself clinging to the idea of release. This is so human of me.
One article I read about resolutions said to imagine yourself on New Year’s Eve of 2019 and think about the changes you would most appreciate then. For me, it’s letting go of a lot of junk—figurative and literal—that I don’t need and making space for more of what I long for: connection, ease, lightness, laughter.
I know myself well, and I know that at the height of stress I’ll forget about my intention to release. But that’s ok. I’m going to put it on Post-Its and write it on the top of my planner and maybe buy some custom temporary tattoos with the word to apply to my inner left wrist as a gentle reminder.
The intention I’m setting is for more ease in my life. And no amount of self-flagellation will ever amount to that.
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