New Year, New You

What are we calling last decade? The tens? The teens? I’m assuming we’re going with teens. Any who - the teens were the decade my kids came into this world. My mind goes a little crazy when I think about that. I brought forth life to three humans in one decade. Good job, me. 

The twenties are the decade my oldest daughter will become a driver. Also the decade she’ll become a cell phone owner. She has BIG plans already for what her cell phone case will look like when she acquires it on her 16th birthday. Nobody tell her that cell phones will be obsolete by then (they’ll just be implanted in our heads at that point right?) or that she’ll almost definitely get one before she turns 16.

It’s tempting for me to look at these two decades and assume that obviously my daughter has gone from being a newborn baby to a 17 year old nearly instantaneously. I have to talk myself down from this and truly convince myself she did not, in fact, turn into a grown adult overnight.

She’s neither a baby nor an adult … yet, at the same time, she’s both my baby and a grown girl all at once. But, we don’t need to get into the nitty gritty of this transitional life (if you really want to, read my last blog post). Rather, we need to focus on what it means for us if this is true that we don’t change overnight. If it isn’t New Year, New Me, then what?

I stopped doing New Year’s resolutions or goals a few years ago. We live in an instantaneous-saturated society. We can order literally anything we can imagine from Amazon and have it drone-dropped to us two hours later (that is, unless you live in Alaska, where Prime still just means a whole number greater than 1). So it makes sense that we would also assume we can change into a better version of ourselves overnight. 

But I want to offer you something else - I want to offer you grace. Maybe you aren’t a different person this week than you were last week. Maybe you brought your unfulfilled hopes with you into the new year. Maybe you brought your failures with you. Maybe you brought your depression with you. Maybe you brought your chocolate with you. That’s ok. Because EVERY DAY, not just a day that suddenly has a different ending date than last week’s, every day is an opportunity for change. 

We do words of the year in our family, instead of goals. Because words remind us of our intention. Words don’t tell us we are a failure if we don’t live up to the new self we have in mind. Words gently remind us that every day holds opportunity for transformation.

We took the girls up a really difficult hike last summer that they had never done before. The hike up was long and filled with a lot of crying, pushing each other (literally and figuratively) to keep going, screaming & yelling, encouraging, holding each other, laughing, singing, fear, anger, joy, pride… you name it. The top was pure bliss. We spent 2 hours running through the fields, eating blueberries, and just plain enjoying life. 

I think that’s what a journey of transformation looks like. You don’t wake up in the new year and become a new you.

You go through a lot of joy and pain and laughter and crying and giving up and getting pushed by others until you arrive at a new level. 

You know, when we made it to the “top” of that mountain, it wasn’t actually the top. We had, in fact, only made it to the false peak of a false peak of a false peak.

There are always new peaks to climb to. There will always be opportunity to transform yourself into a better and truer version of you.

Upon being asked by a friend what her new year’s goal is, my seven year old declared she isn’t going to whine this year. That will obviously not happen (I mean, she whined at the stroke of midnight when we said it was bedtime - granted, it was actually 8p and only midnight on the east coast, so technically that whine was still a 2019 whine). We worked with Rayne to choose a word for the year that will give her grace when she does whine. She chose joy. Every day, she will have opportunities to change her thinking from complaining to being thankful and joyful about her situation. 

This way, when she whines, she won’t label herself a failure and give up on the goal. With her word of joy, she can turn every failure into an opportunity for growth and change. Slowly, throughout the year, she will whine less and she will feel joyful more.

Here are some other words that might help you decide on an intention or word for yourself this year ::

Last year we chose the word wonder. It pushed us to explore more than we ever have before. And we fell more and more in love with Alaska than we ever dreamed possible.

My husband’s word this year is discipline. I like it, because it can be applied to so many things. Think about all the folks that declared 2020 will be the year they work out every single day. Or the year they eat no sugar. Eventually, they’re going to miss a day at the gym, or eat a cookie. Then what? Feel guilty or shameful for failing at their goal? Give up altogether? Instead, the word discipline reminds my husband he has the capacity to make changes daily.

My word this year: laughter. It has already diffused so many situations that would normally leave me stressed or yelling. Hallelujah.

Hope.

Adventure. 

Slow down.

Presence.

Listen.

Build.

Focus.

Patience.

Peace.

Include.

Intentionality.

Transformation takes time. It’s not instant gratification. But it’s a fun (and sometimes not fun) journey. A hike to a new peak. Filled with falls and tears but also triumphs and laughter. 

Happy New Year! May your year be one filled with pushing others and being pushed to new heights.

XO,