On Resolutions

It’s the last two days of the year, and admittedly I’ve been thinking a lot about my resolutions. Resolutions in essence are supposed to be great things – it’s a hope-filled message to your future self that you want to be a better person in the coming year. It wouldn’t be such a cliche to make resolutions if only people actually treated it like a list of goals as opposed to their magical wish list that they hope to fulfil in the next 365 days. (No, you are not going to go to the gym everyday. No, you are not going to suddenly never eat junk food and fast food ever again. And no, you’re not gonna magically be able to wake up at 5am everyday to head to yoga. But I digress.)

Anyway, I’ve been thinking so much about my future lately that I couldn’t help but look back at the last five years. Right out of college, I was in such a hurry to get to where I thought I was supposed to be at that age. We’ve all been there, right? We have all these images of who we’re supposed to be and what we’re supposed to be doing by the time we’re 23. Learning that life isn’t always gonna turn out the way you expect it to is part of growing up. It’s a rite of passage.

I feel ya girl.

So, of course, things blew up right in my face, and everything that I had poured time and effort into for an entire year just didn’t work out. For no reason whatsoever, it just didn’t work out for me, and I didn’t know why. I had nothing and no one to blame it just… didn’t work out.

I remember getting the last rejection letter. I got home from work to an envelope stuffed under my door. It was thin, so I already knew what it was, but a hopeful heart is hard to let down without solid proof. I remember crying my eyes out and not knowing what the heck I was supposed to do next. Everything that I had been doing for the past four years was working towards this – the courses I took, the skills that I developed. So I took some time off from my dreams, and settled into reality for a little bit. I took jobs here and there, made sure I had enough to make the rent (although God knows plenty of times that didn’t happen either) and tried to enjoy life as best that I could with the hand that I had been dealt.

That night was almost 5 years ago. I was 22 then.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved my life so far. I have gotten further and done better than I ever thought I would. I was so directionless for so long that I never thought I’d find fulfilment. But I have, and I am thankful.

But now that the another year is starting, I can’t help but think, what now? Is this my new path? Is this my purpose? Am I happy? Somehow I can’t help but feel like I’m still that clueless girl from five years ago who isn’t sure about anything. And before you say anything, I do recognize that I am pretty fortunate to even be able to think about these questions, as opposed to the questions that I used to ask myself, like where am I gonna get the rent for this month? Can I even afford to go into work today? Is eating cheap canned meatloaf everyday for a month going to kill me?

But if we don’t continually try to become better, be better, then what is the point of even doing anything at all?

I don’t handle rejection very well. It’s not that I will get angry or act out, it’s more of I will stay away from anything or anyone that has ever rejected me, forever. It’s gotten to the point that, in relationships, I let go before the other person even has the chance to reject me. I’ve been called out on it. I’m trying to change it. So what do I do when it feels like it’s my dreams that reject me?

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I feel like the passionate side of me has been dormant for too long now. I used to get so worked up whenever I talked about it. It consumed me. I guess I let it be too important that it eventually chewed me up and spat me out. I’ve been licking my wounds and staying away from anything that can even remotely reject me for a very long time, and I think it’s time to start trying again. But I’m smarter now, and I have my priorities in check, and after all that time, I am definitely much, much more patient now. So I guess it’s time.

Every year I still like to write down my resolutions on my written journal (usually brain farts like this post post end up in writing on that journal, not online, but eh whatever) and for the past few years it’s always been the same things. Exercise more. Eat better. Stop being such a know-it-all. But I guess those things have actually become more of a directive on how to live my life instead of empty promises I will tell myself at the beginning of a new year. Instead, I will only have one resolution. And everything else that I have to do will just be incidental to making that resolution come true:


Happy new year, everyone.

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