I’m not a fan of new year’s resolutions. If you leave it to this time of year to make a change, you’ve already made excuses as to why you haven’t made the change. Chances are you’ll find another excuse to avoid doing what you know you need to do. We all know there’s no need to wait for a new year to start it, whatever it may be.
That said, this time of year does strike me as a sensible time to reflect on where I am and where I want to be.
Life in 2017 started like a stone from a slingshot, only instead of slowing down, it picked up pace, the velocity and ferocity of every passing day turning it into a bullet that needed a target. Didn’t matter who. I was ripe for destruction, of myself or someone else, I’m not sure it mattered.
I took everyone along for the ride. Outwardly trying to maintain control. To convey the narrative I’ve constructed: dutiful husband, doting parent, hard worker. Then: erotic audio creator, cheating husband (an emotional affair still counts), and, most difficult to handle, honest with myself in a way I had not been for a very long time. Searingly, painfully honest.
Eventually, right around the time that the conflicting elements of my life felt like they were about to tear my mind apart, that bullet nearing terminal velocity and still searching for a target, I said no. No more.
I collected myself. Reminded myself that my first responsibility was to myself because without that I couldn’t do right by anyone else. Breathed, and breathed some more. Did things because I wanted to do them, because I enjoyed them, not to placate someone else, to try to make them happy. For me. Despite my mind trying to resist the notion that it’s okay to feel good about who I am.
And so I find myself at the start of 2018 looking forward to a year of important decisions, but no longer fearful of them. It is not the outcome that matters at this point.