Each Year I, like a large majority
of Americans, make a list of resolutions…in my case these resolutions consist
of things I love, but have little time to accomplish, that enhance my mental,
physical, and spiritual well-being. Every New Year, I have the best intentions
of beginning and following through on my plans; again a very common trait among
humanity. However, it always seems that life gets in the way. Managing the
household, while giving two girls and a husband the necessary attention, not
only occupies the majority of my day, but also zaps my energy, leaving me exhausted
and drained in the very time slot (the evening) that I have to take care of my
own wants and needs.
My resolutions have varied over the years.
Some are very common; get into better shape, eat healthier, cut out the SUGAR. Others
are somewhat specific to myself; write more often, read more ferociously, finally
get around to learning all the idiosyncrasies of my camera. However varied,
each resolution is born of the same intentions and each resolution dies of the
same malady. Each year, I feel a considerable disappointment in myself for my
inability to balance my own needs with others, negating the positive effect
resolutions are intended to have.
Therefore, this year, I am
resolving to make, and break, my resolutions regularly. In doing so, I hope to
eliminate the guilt that accompanies breaking a resolution, which often feels
more like an obligation. Instead, I hope to pick up my pen and a book when life
allows, and to feel inspired by the words I write and read, instead of
frustrated by writers block and a feeling of apathy towards books in general. I
vow to run when I can, walk when I don’t feel like running, and relax when
walking feels as if it is a burden. Most
of all, I resolve to try and be human; wonderfully flawed and highly imperfect.
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