Next to Christmas, New Years is my all time favorite holiday. I’ve come to learn, my least favorite part of New Years is how I’ve rung it in. I love the countdown, the poppers, the sparklers, and even the champagne toast. I’m excited to continue those traditions on New Years, but on a more calm note from here on out. And that’s because of the other reason New Years is one of my favorites—learning to change. Don’t get me wrong though, the celebrating will forever live on. Because celebrating is my thing.
To get a better understanding of what I mean by that, you should know that confetti is a year round necessity in our apartment. I keep a cute little thing of bubbles in my desk at work for an afternoon pick me up for my coworkers. There’s glitter scattered in the bottom of some of my most beloved handbags and I couldn’t tell you why. I refuse to throw out months old balloons from my birthday because they haven’t deflated just yet. I enjoy making themed gift baskets and gift bundles for almost any occasion. Give me the smallest reason to celebrate and I will try to deliver in the most over the top way. Call it boujee, quirky, or whatever. Celebrating is my thing.
So yeah, I love the celebrating on New years, but maybe no longer the partying. As we took the Uber on New Year’s Eve throughout the city to our destination, I saw many doing it differently. I’ve learned there’s other ways to celebrate—with loads of laughter, at a family gathering, going to a concert, or having a comfy night in with your best friends—all options can still include confetti too, so that’s a win. I suddenly wanted something different than the night out on the town. That’s growing up though, right? Changing?
I adore change, especially in combination with celebrating, and that’s why I hold New Years so close to my heart. Surprisingly, I no longer come into the New Year groaning about having to lose weight and get to the gym. There have been years where that was my single solitary mission. These days, I approach resolutions as opportunities to grow myself in the less tangible ways.
I don’t typically write about the New Year and resolutions for my blogs. I do have this beautiful floral journal my late Mommom passed down to me, though. She ripped out everything she had written in it and said to me, write the book I never will. I’ve been writing in it for over five years now. Anytime I have one of my huge handbags with me, the journal is in there. Whenever I’m driving, it’s in my car. When I’m at work, it’s kept in a drawer under lock and key. Whenever I’m home, it’s always kept in a safe place nearby.
This journal is where I have kept the majority of my resolutions over the years. It’s in this journal I make endless lists of all the things I want and love in this life. There’s snippets and stories of all the great things that have happened to me over the years. There’s collages of magazine cut outs of quotes and images that hit close to home. There’s notes with dates and details. Then there’s vague entries that are lost in time.
But most of all, there’s lists. That’s part of the reason why I don’t write about my resolutions. If I just posted a list, with little to no context, you probably wouldn’t read it. Or maybe you would but it’d be hard to be engaged, moved, or inspired.
Honesty hour. There’s another reason I don’t typically enjoy writing publicly about my resolutions: I have this ingrained annoyance of people keeping tabs on me. Like I said, over the past few years I’ve moved away from the average resolutions. The majority of my resolutions these days have a lot to do with the kind of person I want to be morally, spiritually, emotionally, and even sometimes financially. In short, these lists are very personal.
I don’t want my readers—or even some of my loved ones—to know these intimate details about who I want to be. Because then I may have people tallying up my missteps, waiting to label me a hypocrite or a fraud. We are our own worst critic, so believe me when I say I already hold myself very accountable when I don’t measure up to my goals.
I don’t mean to be so transparently negative. I guess it’s just if you knew who I wanted to be, maybe you’d bet I wouldn’t become that. Or maybe if you knew who I’d want to be, it would highlight the things that are ‘wrong’ with me now. There’s even the possibility that if you did know my resolutions—the hopes, dreams, and goals I hold so dear to me—you may judge me for my loftiness. Don’t get me wrong, you have never done something to make me think this of you. This is a me thing, not a you thing. It’s literally just an insecurity of mine.
I’m learning to change, though.
One day I will be as open about my list of resolutions as I am about my quirky love for celebrating. When that day comes, maybe I will write that book my Mommom asked of me. In that book I will tell you all about change; about the kind of person I once was, the person I aspired to be, and the person I’m happy to be now.
Naturally, the book release would involve countless amounts of confetti, bubbles, and balloons.
Until then, I’m quietly working on myself and sharing the parts of me I’m comfortable with on this beloved blog of mine. For everything else, my fun filled floral journal of lists will remain in tow wherever I go.
I hope this new year brings you and me a bunch of blessings, loads of laughs, lots of love, and great opportunities to grow.