What time of year, exactly? Time to ruminate on all our failures from the past 12 months and anxiously anticipate the year ahead!
Sort of… (*insert nervous laughter here*)
As a society we seem to have agreed that January is a “reset” month. It’s a time where we all suddenly feel like we have the gumption to get shit done and do better for ourselves and we make lofty goals, disguised as the more fashionable term, “resolutions”, that we, in good faith, hope to do. Whether we write them down in some trendy bullet journal, or we paste them to a vision board, or jot them onto a scrap of junk mail, or just keep them rolling around in our heads, I feel like it’s a safe assumption that most of us approach the new year with some goals and resolutions in mind.
I used to set big resolutions for myself. Every January I would cling to the idea that if I could simply follow through on a few new year’s goals, then I would feel better and life would get better too. This practice was fed by my mania-driven belief that if I just worked hard enough, EVERYTHING WOULD BE OKAY. So I made lists and I created fancy flow charts and I typed up documents and I told myself that I’d better smarten up and get more shit done because it was my responsibility to make everything better!
Surprise, surprise, that’s not how it ever worked out.
That’s because my resolutions were generally hollow. Or they were sabotaged by abusive partners, friends who let me down, or mental health relapse. Or they were so rigid that any small change in circumstances blew them completely apart, like the dandelion fluffs my children savagely blast from their milky stems in the fall.
So I stopped making them.
I gave up.
And I focused instead on just getting through each day. I had no space for resolutions in my life; I was stuck in a perpetual state of fight/flight/freeze and I hung by a thread for quite a few years. So I said “fuck it” to all those bullet journals and vision boards—they just made me feel like a failure when I couldn’t live up to what I put in them!
But this year…
This year is different.
This year I have some space in my head. I have some room in my heart. And yes, I’m still struggling with some things, but I know that I have the capacity to set some intentions for myself and take steps towards them.
Notice that I didn’t say resolutions.
I also didn’t say goals; I said intentions.
Let me explain why…
Language is important to me. Crafting my words mindfully is both intuitive and something I practice; I’ve been working on linguistic eloquence my whole life.
So finding the right terms to define my goal-setting is really important. In the therapy I do, my counsellors and I know that figuring out the right words is key to creating new frameworks of understanding that I can adopt and connect with. I’m trying to practice this way of thinking outside my therapy sessions too (Daniel would be so proud!) so yeah, I said new year’s intentions, not goals. Not fucking resolutions (fuck resolutions!); intentions.
Something about the word “intention” seems more flexible to me. Like, intentions can change; they can shift depending on how things go. Goals are set. Resolutions are set. At least, that’s how they feel in my mind.
So this year, I’m creating intentions. Actually, I only have one:
This year, my intention is to focus on love.
And yeah, I mean romantic love, but I also mean family love, friend love, earth love, community love, and, probably most importantly, self love.
The reason I’m choosing this intention is because in spite of all I’ve learned about myself in the last few years, I still harbour a core belief that I am unworthy of love. That I will never be good enough for someone to love fully. That I can give all the love I have within me and won’t get it back or feel fulfilled.
I know some people in my life will be quick to rebut what I’ve just said— “Of course we love you, Juliana! You never have to worry about that!”—I’m not arguing with how you feel. I’m sharing that one of my fucked up core beliefs about myself is that I don’t have and don’t deserve love. This belief is a deeply internalized feeling that people like my former partners fed into, and I know that I’m the only one who can figure out what I need in order to change how I feel.
So my intention for the new year is to love myself. To share love with others. To cultivate love in my life. To practice loving self care. To recognize and appreciate the love around me, wherever and whomever it comes from.
My intention this year is love.
I know that earlier in this post I said a bunch of shit about not setting lofty new year’s resolutions and it may sound like I’ve just undermined that completely, but wait a second, because the intention I’ve identified isn’t lofty, it’s generous. It’s flexible. It’s open-ended. It’s positive. It’s specific and not specific all at the same time. And I know I have room to focus on love now that I don’t have a divorce to negotiate, an abusive partner to manage (as much), or children who are still in diapers, or worse, potty training. (Fuck potty training!)
So now I want to know what intentions you have in mind as one year ends and the next begins? What words are coming into your head? What changes do you wish to see? (But honestly, it’s okay if your answer is that you just want to keep going as is; that can be a powerful intention in and of itself!)
My intention is love and who knows where that will lead me?!
I imagine 2019 will have ups and downs like any other year, but I want to face those adventures with love in mind. And I hope that through those 12 months I find more love and you do too.