Resolutions

It's that time of year. Time for pressure to start penning goals and setting down aspirations.  Time for to-do lists of grandeur and bucket lists for the upcoming year. Why we do this for an arbitrary date and feel pressure to uphold our plans, I'm not really sure. Regardless, it's that time of year when my fellow humans join me in the list-making profession and resolutions are unearthed from the back of the closet.  

I'm actually not big on new years resolutions.  Sadly, there’s nothing new to aim for, nothing different from last year’s problems that still need fixing.  Or from the year before that, or the year before that.  And that’s just too depressing.  Plus, to have a goal it would seem that one actually has to believe that goal can be achieved. Or have a smidgen of hope that by Dec. 31, 2014 they’ll be at least closer to the finish line.  I don’t know what happened, but my smidgen of hope has obviously gotten misplaced, perhaps in one of the moving boxes tucked high away.
 
I could resolve to be healthier, be more open-minded, be more flexible or more relaxed.  I could resolve to meditate daily, start the day off with a swim, volunteer or go back to school.  I could vow to treat myself as kindly as I do others, or to be a better friend, sister, daughter, cousin, niece.  I could. And yet, I don’t dare write them down on paper. 

It’s too real, too binding, too final.  Written down, I have to admit failure if I don’t succeed, hanging my head for yet another year gone by.  It’s not just run of the mill fear of failure, although I’m sure in a 50-minute hour, some psychologist could twist it that way.  It’s the cumulative spiral of decades of struggle, too many nights vowing never again and too many mornings woken in regret.  It’s the lack of faith that this year really will be any different, can be any different. 

I wish I were different.  I wish to be more “normal” and whip out the tired list of resolutions to go to the gym more or eat more salad or read more books.  I wish that I could ignore the past inertia and instead believe that despite it all, 2014 is going to be the year of change, the year of life, a great year…I’d settle for even just an okay non-crisis mode year.  I wish that January 1^st felt like some kind of new beginning, a fresh slate available for carving out joy.  I wish.

Instead, I have to remind myself that Wednesday is New Years Day, and I can’t pick up my library books.  I have to make an alarm in my phone to watch the ball drop on Tuesday night at midnight.  Forget about the pressure to make big New Year’s plans.  I’m just aiming to remember the correct date when I sign a check.

I seem to have lost my hope, misplaced my faith, and let my goals slip out of my pockets.  As much as I hate clichés, perhaps this is one of those times to “fake it til you make it.”

So, pretending that I did believe, pretending I’m more normal, pretending I’m someone else,
what would I dream for in 2014?

1.     Treat myself and those around me gently, kindly, softly and with love.

2.    Nourish my soul’s only vehicle

3.    Feed my heart and my spirit with meditation, meaning, classes, and inspiring pages

4.    Leave my corner of the world a little better than I found it on December 31, 2013

5.    Make a bathing suit my morning attire and glide through the water with the purpose of strength and relaxation rather than achieving a certain distance.

6.    Show up to be a better sister, daughter, friend, cousin, and niece.

7.    Learn what living feels like rather than merely existing.

8.    Choose life.

9.    And actually Live.

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I ask forgiveness

I deeply apologize.  I could have done better.

For the sharp comments and irritable retorts. 

For the cranky mornings and frustrating indecisiveness, I’m sorry. 

For the moments of impatience, cutting off without really listening, and assuming without hearing, I could have done better.

For the unanswered emails, forgotten birthday cards, and delayed calls to keep in touch.  For the friendships that slipped behind errands and plans unmade due to laziness, I apologize.  For the times when you needed an ear, a hug, a hand to hold, and I wasn’t there.  For the connections lost without required tending and support asked for that I didn’t hear, I’m sorry. 

For the fear, panic, worry and heartache I’ve caused.  For the times together marred by my worn-out craziness; for the rigidity I can carry in my wake, I could have done better.

For tossing aside the blessing of life, invincible faith to choose familiar over right, I’m sorry.  For the expired rules I blindly follow and the childhood fears I grasp without reason.  For the anxiety over the mundane as I miss the sweet blossoms; for the aimless obsessiveness and automatic rituals, I apologize.  For the doubts that halt my footsteps and the self-criticisms that mute my voice; for the lip service to ideals and the promises absent of action, I could have done better.

For the wasted minutes of worry and the pits of overwhelm I easily slide down.  For taking for granted the blessing of breath, limbs that move, and a beating heart.  For misplacing priorities in favor of tired habits and putting off growth for tomorrow, I could have done better.

For all of the ways I may have hurt you, known and those I don’t even realize, I ask for your forgiveness.

For all of the ways I have cut myself off from bliss, abused my blessings, and lost sight of my dreams, I ask for my own forgiveness.

I could have done better. 

I hope, plan, and intend to do better in the coming year.

Balancing in an extroverted world

There are stories swapped easily and smiles tucked between glances; layers erasing distance and an ease of side by side silence.  We are strangers, children of friends, dock neighbors extending our own line of connection.  It’s rare to meet a friend where the initial meeting is absent of small talk.  I tend to shun cocktail party shallowness and mark escape routes during aimless chatter.  I often reach my human interaction limit long before those whose genes I share.  And yet, always a good student, I can hold my own, having been well schooled in the art of extroversion from a magnetic father who reigns at the hub of the party.  

We operate on different gears, he and I.  He happily stacks plans upon activities, is calm with a full table, and has the energy of a five year old.  I come via a solo train, introverted by default, preferring groups to dot the day rather than be the norm.  Still, I laugh at the jokes and join the debates, surprising myself at times with my enjoyment of the crowd.  But after an hour or two, I’m done; finding the extra bodies more draining than energizing, I long to retreat to recharge in the stillness.  It’s a balancing game – avoiding the gentle slope into isolation, integrating friendship with mindfulness and connections with calm.  It’s a learning process as I examine my comfort zone and learn where I need to step away in favor of shared laughter and fun.

I will never be the party girl with an overflowing date book and more friends that I can count.  I can happily spent a Sunday writing, reading, going to the park, calling friends, and never getting out of my pajamas. And yet, I still fight against the extroverted judgments, the labels: not normal, nerd, loser, boring, pathetic.  I practice allowing myself to have my own rules for living and standards of joy, struggling against the childish biases that no longer apply. 

So when I find a kindred spirit whose smile also turns stale upon the bell of midnight, I link arms with relief that there are others just like me.  However, even as I learn who I am and create my own grown up life, I watch my dad in his splendor, a table full of friends, and I take notes.  I watch, simply grateful to have been taught the tools of connection by a master.  I slip in and out of his overflowing calendar, but am always welcomed with a genuine smile and an outstretched hand as he pulls me by his side.  And just as I stretch myself to dance in his world, his shining compliment is when he shrinks to intimacy, carving shared moments of just the two of us sitting on the dock, trading thoughts upon the wind.  He glows in a bustle, but gives a gift to my introverted soul, as he makes clear that our family of four is all the party he needs. 

I continue to learn.  I learn what I need, want, and wish for.  I learn how to slip into family without unleashing old shadows but rather filling my shoes with a love that cushions until the next time.  I learn how to appreciate the din of the crowd along with the stillness, loud laughter along with deep talks over coffee.  I learn when to stretch and when to swing in quiet peace.  I learn to appreciate the differences, to cherish family, and to keep close friends who also understand interaction limits and grown up time outs. 

And so I made a new friend on the dock this summer, and for a few days, we swapped book lists and laughter, pages of history shared under the sun.  Despite the distance between us, I look forward to seeing her next summer, and I remember the ease of her company as a fellow introvert lost in a community of extroverts. 

Abandoning Discovery

I spent years of research, trekking new trails, scanning fresh shorelines.  I marched past enemy lines and lugged my baggage upon bowed shoulders, seeking ultimate answers.  I was on a quest to discover.  Titles littler my bookshelves: “Find your perfect career”, “Find your self-worth”, and “Discover your purpose”.  I swapped hair colors by the week and traded flip flops for heels, testing new personas in efforts to figure out who I was, who I wanted to be, and attempting to capture dreams built on changing winds.  I read the magazines: Is he right for you? Find your perfect jeans? Introvert or Extrovert – take our 5 question quiz.  I looked outward, collecting seashells of truth in my pockets, fitting pieces together as I waited for the finale image to be revealed.  I looked outward to discover myself, scanning the scenery for hints of a well-lived life, clues that would unveil who I was and where I should place my next step.  I looked outward for discovery. 

I had it all backwards.

The world around me screams with orders: Look this way! Act this way! Carry this purse to ensure happiness! It dictates rules for living that aim to fit us all into the same narrow box of status quo.  If I heeded the chaotic tides, I’d take my place in the mass single file line, striped of individuality, an automatic pawn in pursuit of superficial pleasures, gagged to ensure toeing the line. 

It’s not about discovering who I am.  Rather, it’s a process of uncovering.  It’s beginning a different starting block, gathering mindful intentions, and then turning inward.  The answers are buried beneath the soot of errands and daily stresses, rusty after years of trying to fit into another’s’ mold. 

Uncovering is a solo quest, a return to the ancient knowing that we are all blessed with a G-dly spark, the flame of purity that whispers our answers from the heart of our soul.  I had it wrong.  There’s no need for treks and distant shores.  The horizons to explore necessitate stillness, a sweeping away of fears and hurts, shovels to unearth my core, digging to uncover my self.  I am, as we all are, complete right now, holding my answers even when I am unaware of their existence.  The jewels I search for are tucked within my history, solutions emanating from a deeper knowing.  Joy results from uncovering forgotten laughter and dusting off simple blessings.  Meaning shines from a glance backwards to our roots, to our loved ones, to the lands we have traveled and the lessons we have learned.  I don’t need to discover who I am.  I already know.  I simply need to remember and then have the courage to polish it off and hold it up to the sunshine. 

It’s easier to explore new destinations and seek absolution by addition: adding new identities along with trinkets, falling prey to ‘more is better’, ‘more equals happiness’ and ‘more is always the goal’.  Uncovering your own beauty relies on subtraction.  We strip away the expired rules and childhood grudges.  We erase the falsities lining our walls and focus our gaze on our inner flame.  Uncovering requires quiet patience and a willingness to retrain our eyes, a readjustment to the truth we already know, acceptance of our essential self, and a reconnection with the holiness that flickers within. We are all well schooled in discovering, urged on by the neon lights of a world that never sleeps. 

But as we strive to begin anew, to examine our lives, carefully eyeing snags needing repair for the coming year, the answers lie in turning our eyes away from distant shores.  The answers lie in uncovering our joy, excavating our soul, exposing our true self and allowing it to seep from our pores.  Now is the time to uncover.  Now is the time to remember our answers and grasp them with the strength of our soul. 

Dear Inner Critic

I regret to inform you that your services are no longer required and your dismissal is effective immediately upon receipt.  I recognize that you have been a loyal employee for over twenty years, and subsequently have put together a generous severance package to help you transition into new employment.

Your severance package includes:

•  60 days of comprehensive criticism including your appearance, your ability to succeed, your so-called talents, and defining traits.
•  Daily doubts about prior decisions, future decisions, and the possibility of ever being able to opt for one toothpaste over its competition without a lengthy inner debate – available to be extended for the length of one year
• A sum of self-mistrust and disregard resulting in dismissal of inner intuition or wisdom not to exceed moderate agony
• Twenty hours of emotional abuse following interactions with friends to be spent dissecting comments and analyzing relationships.  These hours must result in the inevitable conclusion that you are not a good enough friend.
• An abundant supply of guilt to be dispensed immediately after all communications with parental figures, relatives, authority figures, and others you love and care about.  You may elect any or all of the following guilt options:

1.     Not being cheerful enough

2.     Not being patient enough

3.     Not being flexible enough

4.     Worrying parents for no good reason

5.     Complaining without offering hope

6.     Being a burden

7.     Not answering all calls/texts/emails promptly enough to ensure complete love and devotion

8.     Not adequately conveying respect, love, and devotion

9.     Not being a good enough daughter/sister/cousin/niece/neighbor/friend/dog-owner

10. Other: ________________

11. All of the above

•           My proprietary application, compatible with all electronic programs, which you may keep as a token of my gratitude.  This unique Dismissal app will simultaneously whisper doubts and criticism in your ear while convincing you that others’ compliments are obligatory and false.  Your training and services as Inner Critic have helped develop this gadget and I believe it is only fair that you receive one of the early models.
•            20 self-destructive habits or overwhelming fears of your choice to be withdrawn either as a lump sum or in monthly installments.  These habits and fears may be considered payment for the seductive criticisms and manipulative brainwashing that you have excelled at during your employment here. You may choose from the following list:

o   Codependency

o   Workaholism

o   Alcoholism

o   Fear of abandonment

o   Fear of being smothered in relationships

o   Fear of growing-up

o   Complete dependence on others

o   Isolation

o   Drug addiction

o   Obsessive cleaning

o   Starvation

o   Depression

o   Anxiety

o   Spending splurges

o   Anorexic spending

o   Compulsive need for approval

o   Self-doubt

o   Self-hatred

o   Idiotic people-pleasing

o   Repeated volunteering for pain

o   Refusal to learn life lessons and the subsequent repeating of said lessons

o   Fear of failure

o   Fear of success

o   Fear of death

o   Fear of living a meaningless life

o   Fear of fear

* Please note: should you come up with other fears and destructive behaviors, you may substitute them for items on this list. Also, you are not limited to only 20 – please feel free to adopt more than the required minimum.

You have been a diligent and faithful employee with near perfect attendence and frustrating loyalty.  Despite my current perspective, I am aware that there was a time we both believed you were a crucial asset to the company, and so I thank you for your devastating efforts.  As an Inner Critic, you surpassed all expectations and can be proud of your ability to dole out cutting comments, debilitating doubts, and scathing self-hatred. 

I have decided to dissolve the position of Inner Critic in alignment with my mission statement:

Life will be lived day by day in accordance with the principles of honesty, integrity, and love. Relationships are treasured and I treat myself with kindness. Previous use of doubt, guilt, harsh criticism and approval seeking will be discontinued. Success will therefore be defined by the presence of laughter, gratitude, steps taken toward dreams and the ability to stand up after a fall. Faith, optimism, confidence and self-acceptance compose the operating life platform.

Should you have any further questions or burning criticisms about my abilities and value as a human being, please contact my attorney at 1-800-IGNOREU, as I will no longer be answering your calls.

With chilly regards,

Lauren Bottner, Inc.