As the New Year begins, I find myself in the same paradox I was in last year and the year before. With this year ending and a new one starting comes the pressure to reinvent myself and set goals for this fresh start. This year, I feel burdened with the weight of past failed resolutions. As I look back on my list of “wishes” from last year, I’ve realized that several goals in the list had been there more than once, year after year, and this year is no exception. The guilt starts to arrive, with self-loathing right behind.
However, after this year, I ask myself, “Why am I spiralling on this trip of self-guilt, when I’m the one who has the reigns?” I’m the one who has the power to recognize that even though those goals weren’t fulfilled, I had a fantastic year that deserves to be celebrated and not looked back on with regret or disappointment.
This year, I accomplished numerous endeavours that were missing from my list yet pushed my life into an uphill spiral that I’m proud of. Others might have knocked me down more than once, but this made me appreciate the good ones even more. Therefore, when I think of the resolutions I usually write on paper and the ones I want to achieve this year, I see the growth and understanding of myself that I’ve developed through numerous failed attempts at implementing the “new year, new me” ideology. I have grown and discovered that I don’t want to be a new me—I want to be a better version of the past me, who has achieved all of the things that got me to where I am and who I am. I want to start making resolutions that make sense and really do have my best interest at heart.
For example, as women, a lot of us have written resolutions for the next year starting with “lose weight,” which isn’t necessarily bad. However, I struggle with this one, year after year. You might read this and think, “She isn’t trying hard enough; she should go to the gym more often, eat fewer carbs.” But for me, losing weight has a negative connotation and is challenging due to my body’s faulty insulin. Even knowing this, there’s pressure to write it down and achieve it, when I know that it’s a goal my body might not achieve.
The phrase “lose weight” also brings my friends bad memories and harmful ideas, but they still feel pressured to write it down. Why would we write something with such a negative connotation on a list that is supposed to contain our goals, wishes, and plans for the next year? Therefore, for this example, I’ll write “be healthy” instead. My body is different from my friends and my cousins, and yours is different from mine, and so on. What’s healthy for you may not be the best for me, and what’s healthy for me may not be the best for you. However, health is good for everyone—being physically, mentally, and emotionally healthy!
I’m taking a negative resolution that was punishing me for not being a certain way and changing it to be positive and encompass more than the physical aspect of my body for the next year, which is why I encourage everyone to do this too. There’s nothing wrong with setting goals that encourage you to push yourself and your body, but when we set realistic plans that are linear and in the path in which we are, we slowly become and achieve what we need.
This is why I don’t want to be a “new me” this year; I don’t want to “re-invent” myself. I want to bring my past self with me and try to be healthier, happier, smarter, and friendlier. I want to recognize my work throughout the past years and use that knowledge to improve myself—not re-invent, but rather, honour what I’ve done and accomplished, and sum better things into the equation.
I want to make peace with my body, see how good I can do in school, and show my family and friends how much I love them. I want to set goals that don’t haunt me, nor pull me down. I want to be happy with what I wrote down, and be able to re-read it at the end of the next year and smile, and not bury myself in guilt. I want to accept the new year with warm open arms and a smile, knowing I’ve done my best and that I’m ready to take on the next round of lessons and moments meant for me.