3 months ago, I boldly declared that if I couldn’t post once a week for the rest of the year, I would cancel my hosting. It is now January first, 2020 and I have not definitely not posted in the past month. After I fell my second week behind, I dealt with the niggly guilt for a bit, then comfortably forgot.
But I never miss the Jan first post.
In keeping with my true nature of having no follow through, I am not going to cancel my hosting. Because I have hope. I am the queen of new year, new me. They’re the only kind of posts I’ve written for the last 4 years. I love deciding to get my shit together, alerting the internet that I’m getting my shit together and then proceeding to not get my shit together. This year I’ve got a shot at a fresh decade, which means I can be 10 times as optimistic and then 10 times as much a failure.
I’ve got a 20 for 2020 list, a 30 before 30 (2023) list and a 20 for the 2020’s list. Also I was on a roll, so I have the bones of a 21 for 2021 list too. I have so many lists, so many good intentions. I’m going to get back running again and start stretching. I’m going to journal and meditate. I’m going to read books and drink so much water you wouldn’t believe. By 2021 I’m going to be the most physically and mentally well person on the planet.
All wonderfully aspirational, all probably futile, but a few weeks of guilt does the mind and body good. That’s a thing, right? I think I get a teeny bit better every time I try and I am definitely learning. Last year, I worked away fine at all my goals. Until I got the flu in March, stopped doing everything for 2 weeks and decided to give up the whole year as a bad job. Looking back, with hind sight, I can tell that that was probably not the right choice. Learning.
Plus I’m currently reading Atomic Habits by James Clear, so that should fix me for good.
Anyhow, until next year, or anytime between now and then when I decide to make a fresh start.