LindsayEach January, I typically engage in the futile art of resolution-making, although I’m not sure what I make actually qualify as “resolutions”. It’s more like a really long to-do list of goals I’d like to accomplish within the year but that imposes no actual obligations, nor does it require me to attempt to better myself in any way. It’s really the perfect way to start the new year.
Each year my list has one or more themes, and the activities on the list fall into a theme. For example, last year one of my themes was “outside my door”, because I wanted to spend more time outside in my community, exploring other areas of my city, paying attention to the news and what was going on in the world, and learning about other cultures.
And while I want to do all of those things, this isn’t the year. This year, I have no tangible goals and only one theme: rebuilding. In sports, team management understands that not every year is a championship year. Some years you acquire new players and and learn how to work together as a single unit with the hopes of creating a powerful force that will win championships in the future.
There are a few goals that show up on the list each year regardless of that year’s theme – taking a road trip, spending more time with friends and family, seeing new areas of my state, learning something new, eating new food, and meeting new people. There’s just so much to do and see in this world, but so little time. Many of us with chronic illnesses have an intense Fear of Missing Out (FOMO), perhaps more so than the average person, because sometimes we are, in fact, missing out. Nobody wants to leave this world without walking in Antelope Canyon or eating Ugandan food or seeing vintage cars arranged to look like Stonehenge.
This isn’t my championship year. This is the year I will probably lose my mom and the year I continue my role as a caregiver for my father-in-law and the year I examine my health – what’s working, and what isn’t. My 2019 is all about reconstructing that which has broken. My symbol will be a brick. My mascot will be the street on which my office is located (which has been under construction for 2 fricken years – get your shit together, Caltrans), and my theme song, naturally, will be The Commodore’s “Brick House” or Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall”. Probably both, remixed together to create one funky fresh jam.
While I would love to draft a goals list filled with adventure, exploration, community service, and generally trying to make the world a better place, this isn’t the year. And while I would love to tell you I’m going to blog more, and better, I’m not. This year I focus only on two things: supporting my mom, and rebuilding myself.
I want to rebuild myself and my strength and my confidence. I want to forget everything I thought I knew about postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) and mast cell activation disorder (MCAD) and gastroparesis and allergies and pain and hormone imbalances and whatever new thing my doctor is testing me for, and start all over. I want to hug my mom and play with my dog and fall asleep holding the BF’s hand.I want to reevaluate every medication and supplement I take. I want to read books and ponder the meaning of life. I want to talk about the hard things. I have a milestone birthday this year, and want to enter my new decade strong, at peace, and in love with the world again.
We try to cram so much into such little time, because life is too short to waste time standing still. But maybe some years should be “off” years. Maybe some years we have to get better at standing up before we worry about standing still (POTS-pun intended).
So this year I put a moratorium on all goals and resolutions. This year I’m going to just be. Because 2020 is going to be my year.
Happy New Year, friends.
“Never be afraid to fall apart because it is an opportunity to rebuild yourself the way you wish you had been all along.” – Rae Smith
Smell ya later.
– Linds
“This year, I have no tangible goals and only one theme: rebuilding.” – This sounds like a great way to approach the year, as are goals rather than obligations and things that put too much pressure on ourselves. I’m so sorry this year sounds like it could be a tough one (understatement) with your mum and father-in-law. It’s more important than ever to focus on your health so you’re strong enough and your family. I totally agree with how there should be ‘off years’ because we can get too caught up in feeling like we should be ‘doing’ a lot, then we neglect the things that matter to us and are more important at the time, because the focus needs to be adjusted with whatever life throws our way. I think you’ve taken a solid stance to 2019 and I love that Rae Smith quote, too. Here’s to a year of rebuilding xxxxx
Thanks, Caz! I think those of us with chronic illnesses want to take advantage of years where we’re not in an awful flare, because we know that flare is just around the corner. Typically I try to cram in everything I can because I know next year (or next month or next week) I could be back in bed, unable to do anything. But like you said, I need to focus on my health.
Thought provoking. As I was reading I was thinking that as I’ve gotten older I’ve stopped thinking in large chunks of time. A year feels like too much pressure with chronic illness, because as you say, we never know, nor can we really plan what a whole year will hold. I find myself in months, weeks, and sometimes days. Lately it’s been chunks of days, but that’s been grief survival mode. I like your approach because here’s what hopefully will happen, there will be moments when things will be way better than you anticipated and you will love them all the more. I’m sorry your FIL and mom are ill. I know there aren’t words that will comfort you, but I am sorry. Hoping February is kind to you.🌻