January doesn’t amble, stroll, or linger. January strides, with pride and such motion that I fear of reaching the year end in a blink.
For several years, I lived a resolution free January- my January mornings were mostly cautious, looking at Facebook feeds of other people who wanted to try new things, amend new lifestyle in the first week of January. In two weeks everything fades. Every. Single. Year. A new year starts looking like every other year- sometimes breezy, sometimes anxious, sometimes in melancholy. There is no romance or performance to these first week resolutions, but there is a real intimacy. In a year after a daunting, enormous, and never ending 2016, it is striking, even comforting, that you can always try for a change.
I waited two weeks before making my resolutions. This year I needed them. Ask my sleep-deprived eyes why! It’s not that I hope to make these random changes happen rapidly. With a baby in the family, I strive to bring any change in baby steps. Slowly, while balancing a fall, but without losing the focus.
This year, I will read two hundred new books. I remember, on my wedding day, a girl commented how everything would change after marriage, how marriage swallows every good individual habit- like reading a book, going for a lonely walk, having a different opinion, having any opinion, eating healthy. No such dramatic change took place in my life. Years later I still read books like I used to do as a child. When I had my baby, someone commented how having a baby would make my world upside down. I guess, I can prove it wrong too.
This year, I will buy many colorful shoes and paint my foggy days with rainbows.
This year, I will take care of my health. I spent almost the whole 2016 being pregnant, taking each step with a heavy belly. Nobody tells you that it doesn’t end with the end of pregnancy. Nobody tells you how you will bleed for weeks, shiver in hot afternoons, and sweat in cold mornings. Nobody tells you that the moment the baby arrives, all eyes will be on her, while you will try to recover alone, physically and emotionally. The trauma named childbirth, no matter how painless it seemed after you held the baby in your hand, will haunt your nights and days. Nobody tells you that in that vulnerable period, some people like your husband and your parents will show you the truest meaning of love, if you are lucky in love. Childbirth is not magic. It’s like feeling like another person for nine months, and then trying to find the original you on the mirror and the pages of the journal for the rest of the year. Nobody tells you that you will put your baby before anything- your aches, grieves and grievances. In short, getting healthier is one of my most important personal goals right now.
This year, I will be a mix of contrasts– of mindful and forgetful. How? I will write about them at the right moment.
This year, I will minimize. Those clutters. Worries. Expectations. And some possessions from memory.
This year, I will walk miles again. And take the other two members with me on that journey. Once again, without any pause.
This year, I will try five new cuisines. ( I already tried most. Still.)
This year, I will live. Truly. Fully.
January starts out hopeful every year, and then sometimes it falls apart. As I grew older, I started collectively aiming little lower. That way my heartbreaks are under control. For example, in 2016 I wanted a female president; in 2017, I am happy if I can buy some colorful shoes.
What are your goals this year? Is it still a happier new year?