Fuck You New Years Resolutions
Who just wanted to live a great big happy life.
We’re not talking flaky, airy- fairy, Pollyanna happy here folks. This chick wanted to live life on her terms, a life that filled her up. That made her smile on the inside. To love, and to be loved. She wanted to be free to just be her and to know that it was more than enough.
She had learned the hard way that getting caught up in the expectation game, chasing impossible perfection, putting herself last, listening to the mean girl voice in her head telling her that she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, skinny enough, fit enough, rich enough, mother of the year enough (that’s a thing you know) was SO not cool, and was a recipe for burnout and misery. It was not the way that she wanted to live or the example that she wanted to set for her daughters.
So she made some changes...
She simply tried to live a life that she could be proud of, to squeeze every drop of joy and opportunity out of every moment and day that she was lucky enough to get to still be hanging out here on this crazy planet.
Like the years before, 2016 had been about doing the best job that she knew how with what she had. She had juggled a lot of balls. Tried to do her best by herself and by others. Learned so many invaluable lessons and a few new skills. Come December, she was tired, but her heart was happy.
She woke up on January 1st with a whole brand new shiny year stretched out in front of her.
She heard a familiar rumble in the distance, it was getting louder and louder… the familiar cries of the diet and fitness industries, the smell of New Year’s marketers aplenty. Bleuuurgh!!!!
Reaching out trying to push her buttons, to capitalise on her insecurities, to shine a light on her perceived imperfections. They were checking to see if they could get her to doubt herself, to feel as if she wasn’t enough again.
For a knee jerk moment, her old reactions and emotions started flooding back… am I less because on the surface my life doesn’t fit into some cookie cutter/one size fits all template? If I were skinnier, prettier, richer, smarter, would I be walking around in some happy bubble of perfection nirvana-ish state, with not a care in the world, farting little pink clouds of sparkles right now?
Hang on a minute!
She may have bought this bullshit 10 years ago, but she trusted her worth now. She had lived… the battles she had fought and won, had given her substance, depth, inner strength.
She knew her strengths, her superpowers.
She knew she was made of tough stuff.
She knew her power.
She knew that she wasn’t less of a person because her life didn’t always look like a supermodel's shiny, airbrushed Instagram feed.
She knew that she didn’t need a shit load of expensive toys to be happy and satisfied.
She was pretty sure that her chakras and her aura were all over the place, and she didn’t give a flying fuck.
She knew that not everyone needed to like her (which is lucky because there are a fair few who REALLY don’t!)… that a small, loyal, loving circle of real, no bullshit people was more precious than gold.
That loving and being loved, that living life according to her compass, to her heart, to her gut was what mattered. She remembered what a new year meant to her now.
It meant a fresh chapter, a new start, a precious opportunity to make a choice to keep on walking towards what made her happy. To remember the lessons that this past year had taught her and to leave behind what did not need to come with her into the next part of her story.
It meant saying fuck you new years resolutions (#FYNR)
She was wise enough to know the things that would make moving forward easier, achievable and more of an adventure than a burden.
Getting herself a theme song, some kind of mantra and using it to remind her of what really matters when she stumbles (*cough Ican.Iwill). Enough sleep, as well as plenty of coffee, wine, chocolate, avocados and mangoes also helped.
As the sun came up on January the 1st, she lay quietly and asked herself 2 simple questions:
- How am I going to step up this year?
- What am I going to need to do differently to make sure that it actually happens?
She pictured herself setting off into 2017 with a slight wedgie, her head held high and brand new fresh notebook… ready to write the next chapter of the story of her life… to write it with her words and her choices instead of a version of someone else’s.
Ready to keep on road testing the fuck out of life.
By god she was happy. And then she stretched and smiled and kissed 2016 goodbye, she took a deep breath and whispered to the New Year… ok, let’s dance.
Whatever was to come, she would hold her head high and give it her best.