Resolutions and Reflections
My 18-year old self, my 43-year old self, and the many New Year's resolutions in between.
I was listening to a podcast…or maybe I was reading an article…or perhaps I heard it on NPR. Remembering where the spark came from is getting harder these days, but someone somewhere was talking about the five things they would tell their 18-year old selves. What wisdom they might impart if given the opportunity that could grease the skids, so to speak, for that teenager sliding in to adulthood.
I may not be able to recall the origin of that conversation, but I’m clear on one thing. My 18-year old self wasn’t listening to jack shit any other adult was telling her. And that’s what struck me about the podcast, article, or story suggesting this exercise…its utter futility.
Less I overplay my teenage resistance, I was not a fuck up at 18. I had managed to earn a full academic scholarship to a large university, and I was succeeding in keeping my A-only streak going. I made friends with my suitemates, participated in almost Lysol-ing my assigned roommate to death (she never showered….like EVER), and started to get involved in campus life. I never ran out of money, got arrested, or had compromising pictures of myself appear on the internet. But it was precisely this lack of fuck-upded-ness that gave me such arrogance. I was clearly advanced at adulting.
Except, I wasn’t. Not really. My entire identity was wrapped up in being an exceptional student. I knew nothing of myself beyond that and was largely dependent on other people’s observations to define myself. That continued well beyond college. It took another twelve years for the pieces to slowly start coming together, for me to correct other’s global assertions of my “big personality” not because they were incorrect, but because that description was incomplete.
I remember that 18-year old’s first Christmas back at home after Freshman year at college. A coming back to all that had defined me just six months prior but now seemed slightly awkward, off kilter, somehow permanently shifted without my knowledge or permission. That first New Year’s Day as an almost-adult I became painfully aware that the year ahead would lead me farther and farther away from the nebulous nature of who I was and closer and closer towards something of my own making.
So, while I am fully aware that my 18-year old self would scoff at any advice my 43-year old self might have to give, I also know her secret.
She had started listening.
The wisdom whispered her way settled in her marrow, hibernating until some unknown point in the future where it would register in her brain, having been there all along but just now making it to her sentient self.
These five revelations aren’t for her ears, which are still prepubescent in their ability to hear much of anything other than the football fight song. These assertions are my New Year’s Day resolutions for her future self. Conclusions from many more December 31sts of reflection than she has yet to live. Commitments she should make to herself on some January 1st that’s yet to be. Suggestions, at the very least, that could help, have helped me to be. And become.
Five New Year’s Resolutions for the Future
Get a dog.
You grew up with dogs. Except, not in the way sane people grow up with dogs. Your dogs were contained to the backyard. Then, in an act of quasi-defiance, your mother let you keep a dog inside, but only if he slept chained up to the back door at night. Eventually, everyone decided that was ludicrous and somewhat cruel and to compensate, we not only kept a dog inside, off leash, all the time, your mother also started feeding him chocolate chip pancakes. Then she rescued a dog and fed her hamburger because she swore she wouldn’t eat otherwise. See the co-dependency here? Don’t own a dog like that. Don’t play countertransference with your furry friend. Find a dog and treat it with the respect you would show your closest companion. Feed her well. Set boundaries for him. Love her unconditionally. Accept his love with abandon. Allow her smooth coat of compassion to lay next to you. Practice being your best self in relationship with a being that will ask very little of you. It will matter when you enter a relationship with a being that has far more complex needs. But no chocolate chip pancakes, okay?
Healthy is the new everything. Commit to that.
Here’s the thing. You can’t escape hating your body. You are a female born in to a world obsessed with shit that just doesn’t matter. I can’t save you from that reality. As you’ve already discovered, society’s focus on thinness, beauty, and youth is often cloaked in some false advertising about health. All I can ask is that you don’t buy the lie. Don’t pay money to starve. Instead, commit to the kernel of truth in those lies. Health is your greatest asset. Spend most of your time, money, and energy there and you’ll be okay.
Find compassion for the parts of yourself you hate.
That “big personality”? That directness. That anger. That superhuman ability to multitask. That imperviousness to emotion. That do it anyway attitude. Those parts that make you “complicated”, “hard to love”, “bossy”…they will serve you well when you’re just trying to survive. They have a job, and they will step up in epic ways when you need them most. Find enough compassion to give them the grace they deserve. And invite them to rest when they need not be your first line of defense. There is more to you than those observations; let those parts breathe too.
Walk away from things and people that have already ended.
You know when it’s over. The job. The relationship. The friendship. Holding on, strapping yourself to them in an effort to not be abandoned…again. Not only will it not work, but in the process, you will sacrifice your dignity, your time, and most importantly, your joy. It’s okay to walk away first. Or to walk away at all. Allow that thing, that job, that person to be exactly what they were meant to be in your life for the precise period of time allotted them and not a second longer. You have other things, jobs, people to explore and they deserve your full attention. Don’t spend your years with one arm behind you. It’s a painful way to live.
Find fulfillment in the ordinary.
This is my 43-year old self’s New Year’s Resolution, so I expect, one day, it will be yours as well. That “big personality” comes with a restless spirit, one that is rarely satisfied or fulfilled. I was once asked if I’d rather be happy but with little impact on the world or to change the world but be miserable. At the time, the polarity of those two options seemed obvious and universal. You must pick one. It should not shock you that I chose miserable. You would too. I now see that the choice inherent in that question is not one of polarity, but perspective. It tugs at our deepest longings…to be happy…and to matter. You aren’t beholden to happiness; in fact, at your current age, you don’t value it much. But to matter, well, that’s a seductive siren. You will also equate mattering with being extraordinary, as if nothing that is simply ordinary can have profound impact. This is not true. Chase the extraordinary, there’s nothing wrong with that, and it is inherent in who you are. But from time to time, pause your frenetic search for impact to just notice. Look back to see what your ripples may have already touched. Pick your head up and notice the happy where your feet are already planted. Little things matter. Consistency matters. Ordinary matters.
Caterpillars are cool. And ordinary. But butterflies are extraordinary. Think about it.
