The Terrifying Blank Page

I mentioned last night that I wasn’t going to write down any New Year’s Resolutions this year. I started thinking about that this morning, trying to figure out why I just didn’t want to make my list as I do every year. I believe there’s sometimes a certain level of anxiety when making New Year’s Resolutions. We create our list, but the entire time it’s being drafted, we’re thinking about all the resolutions we made last year that we didn’t follow through on. The list becomes a silent, judgmental monster, waiting to point a virtual finger at us next holiday season for not doing the things we promised ourselves we were going to do.

I’m not saying writing down New Year’s Resolutions is a bad thing. I love New Year’s Resolutions. I love making a list of the things I want to accomplish. But I think what I really want this year is an unstructured life, a life that allows me to be completely in the moment, enjoying each second as it comes. No healthy eating plans, no reading goals, no detailed blueprints on how to totally clean out clutter. 2019 taught me one huge thing: we are all on borrowed time.

I suppose by saying I just simply want to enjoy life is actually a resolution in itself. It’s a scary one. I don’t know what this next year will give to me or take away from me. I suppose there are worse things that can happen to me outside of what happened to me in 2019. Despite the almost paralyzing fear, though, I want to sit here at the end of 2020, reflect back on the past 365 days and be able to say, I thoroughly enjoyed this year and took advantage of the fact that I’m alive. So while I don’t have a list of resolutions, I do have a short list of things that will probably happen this year: buy a house, travel as much as I can, read a lot, crochet a lot, soak up the love of my close friends, embrace solitude, and enjoy each day that I’m allowed to exist on this little blue planet.

first blank page

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