Resolution Evolution

 

I swear I am never going to make another resolution in my life. Oops. That kinda sounded like a resolution …

You see, it is that time of year where I am so engorged with fattening, glucose-infused home cooking, that I can do nothing but stare at the wads of discarded wrapping paper and wish I had the energy to reach the remote control. Real smart people call this period: Introspection.

Two back-to-back holidays filled with food, and I have no choice but to consider where I went wrong and what I’m going to do about it after I am released from my carbohydrate coma.

There is an entire psychological pathology which surrounds these final festive occasions. Introspection leads to self-loathing. Self-loathing leads to disgust and guilt. And finally, guilt leads to resolutions.

It really has nothing at all to do with the New Year, or a fresh start. It has everything to do with Grandmother’s oyster stew, and all that country ham that makes me retain water, and the high-caloric jam cake soaked in some sort of liqueur.

And that’s what I tell myself.

I have recognized that my resolutions have undergone some sort of evolution. I used to make resolutions. For example, “I resolve not to think mean thoughts toward my brother.” Or, “I resolve not to break any promises.” Or, “I resolve to stop procrastinating.”

Right.

There was nothing wrong with my resolutions, just something wrong with my resolve. So, I stopped calling the things on my list resolutions. Last year, I called them Goals. They included things like: write three poems, send out five pieces for publication, try sculpting, practice yoga, finish my quilt. See? Worthy goals. Stinky stick-to-it-ive-ness. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice that until the last week of the year.

All in all, I didn’t do too bad. I wrote four poems, one of which I really liked. I did think hard about which five pieces to send out for publication, but in the end, conjured up more reasons to not send them out. I sculpted, if using the kid’s play dough counts. I practiced avoiding yoga – which takes a lot more self-control than people might realize!  And, I decided that the original size for my quilt was ostentatious and could be reduced to a lap quilt for one of Emily’s baby dolls. I still didn’t get it finished.

The final step in my Resolution Evolution is making wishes. Wishes are more like the dew on spider webs, or milk weed seeds that blow away in Fall. They are more transient and reduce guilt four fold.

Making a Wish To/Wish Not To list is much safer, easier to handle, and then, when the next to last week of December rolls around next year and I realize my wishes were only wishes after all, I can pretend they evaporated or were blown away on a warm breeze.

Hey, a girl can dream.

Dreaming … now, that might be the only rung left on my Resolution Evolution ladder.

 

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