So, 2018 is finally here. May it be less of a raging dumpster fire than 2017 was.
Seriously, 2017 was a really shit year. And I didn’t even have it that bad! For some people it was a nightmare.
And honestly, I’m having a hard time getting excited about the new year being “a clean slate” and “a fresh start.” I used to eat that shit up, the promise of a new beginning, the excitement of not only a new month, but an entirely new calendar, all crisp and clean, without a creased corner or blemished page, nothing but promise and possibility.
Now all I feel is, meh.
I’ve done it so many times before. Started the year with goals and resolutions, plans and proposals written out with neat little bullet-pointed tasks to accomplish. It has never amounted to anything. I’m still here, still trying to make positive changes, still struggling with the same shit.
And yes, I’ve done stuff that has made a difference. But even those positive results eventually disappeared, buried under habits I can’t change and the tendencies that have created them.
It’s not all for naught. My marriage is better, though I couldn’t explain why. Maybe the many books I read eventually helped? Or we figured each other out enough to better avoid the many pitfalls we fell into before? Or maybe our kids are just easier and so life is just easier and so our marriage is just easier. While I am so, so grateful that it’s better, it’s not something I feel I accomplished.
And other things are… better? Not as bad? I do feel more acceptance about my job, mostly because I know there is little-to-no chance of me getting a better one, especially when you take into account the tenure and years of seniority I’d lose if I left.
I am more accepting of the fact that I will never be a neat or organized person. Sure, I think I’d be a whole lot happier if I could keep my house or my desk at work neat and organized, but I just can’t seem to do it. The amount of effort it would require is just too great. I would basically have to let go of everything else in my life that is important if I wanted to keep my life neat and tidy and organized.
So I guess acceptance (it’s hard not to write resignation) is the key. Acceptance of this shitty political situation. Acceptance of the fact that I don’t love my job and probably never will. Acceptance of my messiness and disorganization. Acceptance of who I am, and who I will never be.
Sure the number we write with the date has changed, but nothing else has. I certainly haven’t. And I am okay with that. Do I wish I could change more? Sure. Might it be healthier to accept myself, and my life, for what it is? I think so.
Are you writing resolutions this year? Do you feel excited for this fresh start?