It’s kind of funny that a new calendar and a new year prompt folks who’ve been perfectly content to coast through the old one to make bold declarations of change.
I suppose it is the nature of humans to pause at the threshold and think crossing over means something more than a single footstep.
I’m tempted to join in from time to time myself.
The thing that stops me is a fundamental understanding that no matter what prayers, proclamations or promises we lift, declare or make to ourselves or others, time has a way of unraveling them all.
Still, when I began to see social media prompts to “pick a word” for 2024, I actually entertained it for a few seconds.
Instead of inspirational words like “perseverance”, “joy”, “presence”, “love”, etcetera, the only word that came to my mind was “boundaries”. Which sounds kind of selfish and not all that aspirational.
I think it probably springs from a place deep inside my soul.
A place I don’t often explore and even more rarely pay attention to. But a place I probably (definitely!) need to listen to and take seriously.
I have joked since turning sixty that if someone wants to mess with me “they picked the wrong decade!”.
Easier said than done.
A lifetime of bending over backwards (the name of my imaginary yoga studio) has bent my heart, life and personality toward giving in and giving up. Child loss took so much out of me that what was a tendency BEFORE is practically a policy AFTER.
Too often it’s too much trouble to try to explain why I need space, time, love, attention and just common courtesy. So I stuff, stuff, stuff and do whatever someone asks regardless of how much it costs in terms of time, effort or energy.
I’m trying to learn how to say (without being snarky) I don’t think I can meet a person’s expectations. I’m trying to learn how to take up space and quit shrinking into a corner.
I won’t lie.
It’s hard.
And I’ve been met with resistance.
But this year I’m determined to make it stick.
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