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1. Throw
Less Parties. Pity parties, that is. I am the queen of pity parties. I can
throw a mother of a pity party, complete with decorations, fine china and a
bottle of “Poor Me” champagne. My pity parties usually take place while washing
dishes, sitting in the dentist chair or shopping at Ross. My latest pity party
occurred roughly two weeks ago, when I visited the local Ross in search of a
few last minute Christmas gifts. Ross is a place I loathe, yet find myself at
quite frequently. To quote my friend Amy, “It smells like poop.” And if you
sniff hard, you’ll note that it does. There’s always a screaming child nearby,
the music is not even suitable for elevators, and the carts suck. Each cart
comes complete with a long metal pole, just in case one should get a crazy
notion and decide to run with it down the street. On this particular day, there
was only one cart left when I entered the store. And I soon discovered why it
had not been snatched up: it squeaked. It was the suckiest cart in the store.
Within five minutes of my shopping experience, I was in full blown pity party
mode. The progression went a little something like this: I always get the squeaky cart. I hate being broke. I hate shopping at Ross. I have no decent
underwear. My hair is too frizzy. I hate Pinterest. No one likes me. My life
sucks. Yeah, lame, I know. But there I went, on and on and on as I weaved
my way through the crowded aisles. By the time I ditched my squeaky cart and
got to my car, I was in such a low mood I had to go home and eat four giant
chunks of dark chocolate. Yes, I DO know there are far worse things in the
world than getting the squeaky cart at Ross. But sometimes, we just can’t snap
out of the funk, ya know? So this coming year, I’m going to try harder. I’m
going to try to stop the pity party before it starts. I’m going to slam the
door in its face, hide the “Poor Me” champagne and focus on the good in my
life.
2. Raise My
Voice More Often. No, I’m not talking about yelling at my kids, though,
admittedly, I did a bit of that when they were younger. I’m going to start
speaking up about the things that matter to me, even if it scares me a bit.
I’ve spent most of my life playing peace maker, trying to please everyone,
pasting a smile on my face and nodding my head politely. When certain topics
arise, I simply change the subject or shove some chocolate in my mouth. But I
don’t want to do that anymore. Being silent is not always honest, and I want to
be honest – with myself and with others. Several months ago, a friend emailed
me regarding something I did not agree with. For the first time in my life, I
spoke up. With shaking fingers, I typed back a polite but candid email, explaining
why I did not agree with her. I took a deep breath as I hit the “send” button,
wondering if we’d still be friends after it was all said and done. But guess
what? We are! We choose to disagree, and that’s okay! And so, in 2014, I will
attempt to raise my voice, even if I have to clear my throat a few times before
I get the words out. Though it feels scary, I believe that, like learning to
ski, it will get easier the more times I practice. And I will be okay.
3. Get More
Wrinkles. As I inch toward my 40’s, I’ve noticed a few lines I’m not too
happy with. Though I did not think it was possible, I am now a walking
testimony that one can simultaneously have both wrinkles and zits. And it
sucks. For the first time in my life, I invested in some (very expensive!) anti-aging
cream this past year. So far, I’m not sure it’s working. But one thing I’m not
too worried about? My laugh lines. You know, the creases on your face that
prove you know how to have a good time now and then. I’m hoping to get a few
more of those this coming year. And I’m hoping they come with the
gut-wrenching, side-splitting, tears-streaming-down-your-face laughter,
preferably in the company of good friends, with a glass of wine or a raspberry
martini. If I must laugh at myself, so be it. And if I end up more wrinkly by
December 31, 2014, I’ll just smile and wear them with pride.
4. . Use More
Paper. I know, the environmentalists are freaking out at this one. To be
honest, I’ve never been too good at recycling. In fact, I’m downright lousy. Or
should I say, lazy. I know it wouldn’t take much to march my cardboard boxes
and bottles to the recycling bin outside, but sometimes I just don’t feel like
putting my shoes on. And so I don’t do it. I don’t use the reusable bags at the
grocery store either. While we’re at it, I sometimes leave the lights on when I
go out, I take long baths and use up too much hot water, and I don’t support
Green Peace. So shoot me. But this coming year, I’m vowing to use more paper.
I’m talking about trading in the convenient “e-card” , email, text or Facebook
message for a nice, old fashioned, hand written letter. Granted, my handwriting
is illegible, and even I have a hard time reading it sometimes. But I really
believe our generation has lost something in the technology boom. We’ve lost
that personal touch, that little thrill when we open the mailbox and find a
sweet letter, carefully addressed to us, scrawled on pretty stationery. Admit
it –even the biggest Apple buffs love getting Christmas cards in the mail. This
year, I plan to send more cards, more letters, more love. Even if it costs us a
tree in some forest somewhere in Oregon. So if you find a little something in your
mailbox in the coming days, know that it came straight from my heart, even if
it’s too illegible to decipher.
5. Stop Running. Okay, well, those of you
who know me well know I never started in the first place. I tried a few times.
I attempted to train for a half marathon for three hours on a Saturday morning
once, but I got side cramps and blisters and had to throw in the towel. I’ve
tried running on the treadmill, but that’s not much fun either. The minutes
crawl by, I sweat profusely, and instead of experiencing this so-called
“runner’s high” I so often hear about, I simply feel angry. Like I could kick
someone in the shins with my New Balance tennis shoes and leave a nice bruise.
So, much as I’d like to plaster a 26.2 sticker on the back of my SUV, running
just isn’t my thing. But I’m not talking about that anyway. I’m talking about
running from one place to another, constantly scrambling, over-scheduling,
squeezing every last nanosecond out of my 24 hour day. To be honest, I’m tired.
The pace is exhausting, and I’m not sure us humans were ever meant to live life
on the fast track. When I got sick a few years back, my life was forced to come
to a screeching halt. I stopped
everything, gave it all up. And in the process, something kind of cool
happened. I began to realize that slowing down wasn’t so scary after all. I took naps without guilt, read magazines at 3
p.m., lit fancy candles I’d never used, and took long bubble baths. I overheard
my peers gush about how “busy” they were, as though it was some sort of prize
to attain. And instead of envying them, I felt a bit sorry for them instead.
But several years later, I’m back on that same fast track, wondering how I
worked my way into this constant tailspin. Soccer practice, laundry, dishes,
homework –it never seems to end. This year, despite the inevitable madness, I
vow (and by vow, I mean try really, really hard) to stop running. I vow to slow
down, make time for those I love, to get off the fast train once and for all.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll start living again. Maybe I’ll actually make eye
contact with the grocery store checker instead of stuffing my wallet in my
purse and bolting for the door. Maybe I’ll actually HEAR my daughter when she
shares her dreams with me instead of muttering an absent minded “Mmm hmm.”
Maybe I’ll actually take in the sunset and snap a photo instead of honking at
the too-slow car in front of me. And maybe, in catching my breath, I’ll
discover that sometimes all we need to do is just breathe.
6. Gain a Little. The scale is perhaps the
most dreaded fixture in our lives. We stare at it as though it were a live
serpent, deciding whether or not to step on and face the music. Did the pumpkin
pie and Fireball and garlic mashed potatoes really catch up with us this year?
And if only we could take back that calorie-ridden fruit cake we ate JUST so we
could say we’d tasted fruit cake! Did we do enough lunges and crunches and
burpees to work off the junk? I didn’t own a scale for years. Then I finally
bought one at Target this summer, and it promptly broke two months later. It
cost $20 and didn’t have a warranty. And no, I didn’t break it…it broke on its
own. A wasted $20, my husband said sadly. But I feel much better now that it’s
gone. I don’t have to stare at its ugly face on my way to brush my teeth in the
morning. My freedom to eat dark chocolate at night is regained. But I wasn’t
talking about gaining pounds anyway. I was talking about gaining LIFE. You
know, really living. Gaining experiences, new friends, new tastes, a new skill.
Hiking that mountain I’ve only looked at from a distance. Finally signing up
for that cooking class. Making the effort to walk a few yards across the street
and finally meet my new neighbor. Visiting a new state. Trying that new
lipstick. Gaining the courage to finally write the book I’ve been wanting to
write for so long. Pounds will come and go, but life is priceless. So are you
with me? Let’s gain a little this year! And if we wind up a bit plumper by next
New Years Eve, we’ll call it a good year.
