I was going to be at a fabulous party tonight and instead I’m at home blogging with a horrid flu, a partially torn plantar fascia (the band of connective tissue on the bottom of the foot) and a healthy dose of self-pity and deja vu. I feel like this happens every year in some form or another.
I resolved years ago to bag the whole resolution thing, because “resolution” is just a fancy term for the never ending lists I keep of all the ways I’m not good enough, thin enough, productive enough, disciplined enough, selfless enough etc etc.
So screw resolutions. Every day is a new beginning and there is no such thing as a new beginning. Tomorrow is not a magical day during which I will suddenly find the inner reserves to keep my yard tidier, finally hang that curtain rod in my kitchen, volunteer at an orphanage in Tibet, write another book, win the attachment parenting award and not eat candy bars at night. Tomorrow is just another chance for me to practice compassion toward myself and the world around me.
So Happy New Year, all. And thanks for reading my rants for another year. Truly.