RESOLVE

re⋅solve
   /rɪˈzɒlv/
verb, -solved, -solv⋅ing, noun
–verb (used with object)
1. To come to a definite or earnest decision about; determine (to do something): I have resolved that I shall...

So it begins. The juncture each year in which we ponder ways to make ourselves or our existence better. I started this post with the full intention of revealing the softer side of me. How I was going to find more meaning in moments, unearth the fundamental good in human kind and deepen relationships through existential conversations. Then *ding* reality hit as a pain in my neck (literally) and I'm thinking "who is this sentimental pansy and what happened to the REAL me?"

I have long debunked resolutions as silly little lies we tell ourselves. I saw the intentions at face value as honorable, but when scratched below the surface, wishes and wants seemed to be hollow with no self actuating plan. As a life coach and a fitness trainer I heard more resolutions dealing with body weight, beauty and money. I started to get cynical.

Why resolutions? I mean, do we just want to set ourselves up for failure? Isn't it a self-fulfilling prophecy to say we're going to do something (or not do something) that goes against the very fiber of our being like "I will stop eating chocolate," when the cabinet is stocked with Hersheys and once the thought of obstaining enters our brain we can think of nothing other than chocolate? The definition of insanity?

Oh, but I too bought in to this idea of New Years Resolutions (who thought of them anyway? I must Google it). I even tried using reverse psychology on myself. 1. Eat as much as you want of whatever you want. 2. Do NOT exercise whatever you do. 3. Smile less. But, dude? Where's my car? Why do I have to trick myself into accomplishing these goals? And unless I missed a form of new age mind control, I can't convince myself that a rice cake tastes like Haagen Dazs coffee ice cream.

Where is the depth of reality? I understand to the fullest extent that if we ourselves are not happy, we can't give well to others. But at the end of the day what really makes us feel fulfilled? Is it our beauty? Our possessions? Family?

Cue sappy segment: How about finding a reason for being - a purpose beyond our appearance, possessions and status? There ARE things I want to try to do more of, less of, better or worse this year. Too many. Be a better mom, cherish all the little moments, save money, finish school, do more charitable work, get healthier, write gooder, eat less Haagen Dazs coffee ice cream. (Typical type-A bitch, can't you just be happy with who you are and what you have?)


I'm trying to find the answers here, really. But, no sooner than I type this sentence my daughter screams frenetically that her brother hurt her, it's an hour past her bedtime, the dog is chewing the eyes out of Luke the stuffed Lab, the dishes are piled in the sink, on the counter, the table and absolutely nothing in my house is in any semblance of order. And me? I burst into laughter. Laughter about the crap, this shit in our lives that can weaken us if we let it, mortify us if we choose and cause us to conjure up resolutions that just don't make sense for our lives. And in this moment as pure chaos in ensuing, I'm laughing. And it becomes clear. No more resolutions, just laughter.