Every year I make New Year’s Resolutions. I write them down in my journal and try to do more than just thumb past them as I scribble my daily thoughts.
I actually work on them.
Often I move resolutions forward from one year to the next, but that is because resolutions are meant to be permanent and do not have a “best if used by” date. Losing weight and keeping it off is a battle I will fight for the rest of my life. Finishing my current work in progress will never end because it will be replaced with another manuscript and another and another. Though resolving to exercise more is almost laughable, (since one cannot measure “more” unless you start with “some,”) the intention is always there.
I make resolutions/goals all throughout the year and not just on December 31st. I make them on important anniversaries or milestones, like my birthday, the start of a season, and the beginning of a school year (since the teacher in me continues to reference school calendars and not just those measured by lunar months).
The lists resemble each other because they are reminders to “get along little doggie,” and do what I promised myself at the last revision. Most often things do get scratched from the list, either because it was accomplished or because it no longer has value for my mental, physical, or emotional growth.
I have friends who pooh pooh my list of resolutions. They swear they never make them, but I wonder if they realize that every time they go to the gym, change their diet, or plan a trip, they are doing the very same thing I am doing except they are not jotting their goals down in a journal or bragging about it to the world?
I make promises to the people around me and I always try to keep my word. Why shouldn’t I make promises to myself and try to live up to those promises? Am I not as important as those around me?