Reflections
The tradition of creating New Year’s resolutions dates back a lot farther than I thought. 4,000 years ago, Babylonians would make promises to the gods believing that, if they kept their word, they would bring them good fortune in the next year. In Ancient Rome, Caesar named January 1st a holiday that honored a two-face god who had the ability to simultaneously look back on the past and into the future. Citizens would offer sacrifices and make promises of good behavior to this god.
I can’t say I’ve ever been as dedicated as the Babylonians or the Romans. My resolutions tended to be half-hearted, revolving around getting in shape or taking more pictures, and I never actually kept track of my progress. But this year – this crazy frustrating, frightfully uncertain year – I’m taking a different approach. Instead of focusing on how I want to change in the next year, I want to reflect on how this past year has changed me.
These last 12 months have been some of the hardest months I’ve experienced in my entire life. This was partially due to the pandemic that rocked all our world’s, but it was also due to growing pains I was going through emotionally and spiritually. Part of me blames bad timing, and part of me believes they played off each other. This year brought silence where there used to be noise, loneliness where there used to be company, and uncertainty in place of steadiness. This year, the rush of the world quieted down around me, and all I had was myself. I was able to hear and feel things that had been suppressed within me for so long. I was able to give my neglected self the attention I deserved, and really listen to my heart and soul for the first time. That’s what turmoil can do to us. It can sometimes feel like we’re breaking, and that’s because we are. We avoid breaking down, terrified to feel that pain that comes with it. But I finally understand that it’s our path to regrowth.
Whether it was health, finances, sanity, or love that was the biggest struggle for you this year, you’re not alone. And if we’re lucky enough to live another year, we’ll face another struggle next year. When I reflect on the year, I want to remember the struggles and how they’ve changed me. It reminds me that I’m human, that I’m growing, and that I’m alive.
Notes
2020 served up a lot of hard-to-learn lessons. As I reflect on the growing pains, I remember what these books have taught me. Though the authors would have never predicted the struggles we experienced, the messages in their books have taken new meaning for me.
How to devalue productivity
In Brene Brown’s The Gifts of Imperfection, her studies found that we often base our worthiness on productivity. This is completely counterproductive to our wellbeing. The things we often stress over (buying a house, earning more money, etc.) are not the things that would actually bring us the most joy. Joy and meaning in life is defined by things like making time to go for a run, scheduling a night out with friends, or watching a movie that’s been on your list. These actions have more success at bringing us tangible joy – much more than the things we think will.
2020 forced us to hit pause on multiple aspects of our lives, and with it we all became less productive. The hidden lesson in this unexpected slowdown was to stop attributing our self-worth to status, success, and what we accomplish. We learned how to say no, and accept that some items on our to-do list simply weren’t going to get done.
How to embrace stillness
Many people would describe this past year as “lonely”. All of us were forced into a place of stillness, hoping to not go entirely crazy. In The Gifts of Imperfection, stillness is defined as, “Opening up an emotionally clutter-free space and allowing ourselves to feel and think and dream and question.” Often, we think if we stay busy enough that we won’t have to confront our fears. We won’t have time to feel how scared/tired/confused/sad we are. The irony though, is that staying in front of feeling worn down is really wearing us down. However, within this stillness, many of us were able to find calmness. Brene defines calm as, “Creating perspective and mindfulness while managing emotional reactivity”. Within the silence, we were finally able to lean into complex feelings. The silence required us to embrace calmness in order to react to these new found feelings without fear and anger. The constant tests of 2020 gave us ample opportunities to practice our individual ways of cultivating calm in a storm, and practicing here is essential. Anxiety may feed off itself, but so does calm.
How to lean into change
In life we’re given the opportunity for growth inside every negative experience. It doesn’t mean we need to see our negative experiences as “gifts” right away; there’s a process we need to go through first. We tend to grieve our experiences before healing from them, and only then are we able to grow. Every painful experience from this year has a lesson behind it. Maybe for you it was gratitude, appreciating your family, or the fragility of life. In his book Good Vibes, Good Life, Vex King shows us how pain and struggle can be an important catalyst for change. The key is not to wish to change the painful experience (and therefore, the lesson), but to focus how we were changing from it. 2020 brought us a lack of control, but it gave us the opportunity to shift perspective. This important lesson will stick around for a while, allowing us to better navigate life’s painful moments.
