New year, same me!
The dregs of Christmas are following me around like a haze. My gifted pyjamas still smell new, my house smells of sprouts (although that is my mum revitalising her dieting resolve, and I think it may be best to vacate for a few weeks before it dies down in approximately week 2 of January and it becomes safe to breathe), I’m not completely sure what day it actually is, work is a bit of a slog and I am already dreading having to listen to ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ (Sorry Robert Burns, the words you wrote are actually nice but humans have a way of wrecking nice stuff by singing out of tune to an awful tune and making my teeth hurt when I hear it. If we could lose that as a tradition I’d be glad.)
It must be coming close to New Year’s Eve, then, and that means…you have to queue to get into a Wetherspoons packed with people, vomit, and crushed baubles. It means not being able to get a drink anyway, terrible singing (mentioned earlier), and fireworks.
And because I will be avoiding all of that in a cunning disguise of being unconscious in bed for the entire thing. (Fingers crossed – I opt out of New Year’s plans. One day, maybe, but not now.)
It means that now your telly has finished telling you since September to EAT! IT’S CHRISTMAS! It will have now begun to say STOP EATING! YOU DISGUST ME! GO ON THIS DIET! THAT’LL BE £300 FOR A MONTH! DON’T BE FAT ON A BEACH IT’S LITERALLY WORSE THAN DEATH!
You don’t need me to tell you that the media doesn’t need to dictate how you feel about your body, and I hope you all give it the eyeroll it deserves.
A new year also means resolutions and they always seem so… ‘New Year New Me’. Gyms will be congested with bright-eyed people for a fortnight. Slimming clubs will have queues out the door. People will liquidise green things and flavour them with tears of disappointment. And then, because we are human, we will revert back to the people we were before we pretended we were someone else.
Not me. I prefer to call it ‘continuous development with no kale allowed’.
A couple of years ago I renamed them ‘revolutions’ and used them to springboard my fireball of a mission to lose a lot of weight very quickly. (Found it again just as fast, no trouble, lesson learned: dieting is a con. More on that later.)
Now? I am calmly considering how I feel about New Year’s. Having had my first ever Mindful Christmas (see "Going with the flow at Christmas") quite by accident, is now the time to actively decide to not put pressure on myself to have a gigantic list of resolutions this year?
What is a resolution, anyway, but a parcel of shame you send yourself wrapped up as more stress in an already hectic life?
And what were my previous years’ revolutions, but a special delivery parcel of self-hate wrapped up as very irritating philosophical diet zombie girl? (People who knew me then, sorry…)
But what is Dawn without a to-do list?
Answer: directionless and frazzled. The thought of not having a goal for 2018 is going to bring me out in hives so…
Let’s call them something else. But let’s also try not to take on too much, as I have in previous years, and now I hide my half-done projects in places where I can’t feel their judgment. Instead, I will carry on with what I can currently handle and remain healthy doing so; that balance is oh so important.
What’s on your to-do/hope list for 2018?
Here are mine:
Sort me out a place to live!
Keep writing and sending out work- Mindfizz, poetry, etc.
Resend out novel #1 to agents.
Spend less time on social media - read instead, as I find it more relaxing.
With the time I DO spend on social media - make it useful and building towards getting the word out about Mindfizz.
Do more exercise that I enjoy. (This is important – I will not stick at anything that feels like a chore.)
Continue to remember that this isn’t about changing me or who I am; but about making time to continue developing who I am and what I want to do, while maintaining a job, social life, and taking time out to look after myself also and take a break from time to time!
Let’s see how it goes!
Happy New Year!