I’m not big on new years resolutions. I’m just not convinced that the beginning of January is the best time to start fresh on anything. January is a good month for binge watching TV shows, cuddling with your dog, and enjoying cozy nights in watching movies and ordering takeout. It’s the time that I struggle most to maintain my existing healthy habits.
Interestingly, Persian New Year (Nowruz) is celebrated every year on the first day of spring. They’re on to something with that. Each year when I celebrate with N’s family I wonder – why isn’t the first day of spring everyone’s new year? It makes so much sense, right? I could totally start a new fitness plan on March 21st. It’s the perfect time to start getting motivated and in shape for summer. So I mean, if you’re not feeling like now is going to be a super successful time for you to start something new, consider the first day of spring. Just sayin’.
But on to my January resolutions. I always kind of giggled at people who picked a “word of the year”. It seemed a little cheesy and hard to measure. But this year, as the months passed, I was disappointed in myself for my small failures in my relationships. Each time a birthday passed for a friend and I knew I didn’t send a card, I’d be a bit ashamed. I knew their birthday was coming. I had every intention of acknowledging it. And then suddenly it’s 3 days before and I don’t have a single damn postage stamp. Such a silly reason to forget to acknowledge people who are important to you with more than just a text message.
So as we stood on the roof deck at midnight, looking at the fireworks with a view of the Philadelphia skyline, we went around and each of us shared one resolution for this year. Some were the usual – “I’m going to actually use my gym membership”. Some were girly and fun – “I want to wear nail polish more!” This year, I went with heartfelt. I want to be more thoughtful. I want to remember more birthdays and anniversaries. I want my cards to arrive early. I want to check in more with people I have a tendency to fall out of touch with. I want the people I love to feel that love.
It’s not measurable. But I think if I get to December and I feel I’ve failed, I’ll be deeply disappointed in who I’ve become as a person. By then, 30 will be staring me in the face. The woman I want to be is more thoughtful and loving than the woman I currently am. 2017, cheers to love.