Chapter 1: The Dilemma of Resolutions

I have never been one for New Year's resolutions.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Recently, I overheard my children in the dining room chatting with their father about their New Year’s resolutions. “Mama doesn’t make resolutions,” he said. “She’s always working on becoming a better person.” It sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Very serene and introspective. However, it’s not exactly that simple. My continuous quest for self-improvement stems from feeling a bit scattered, with too much to address all at once.

Why confine yourself to the disappointment of failure in the first couple of months of the year when you can extend that sentiment throughout the entire year?

Every September for a decade—beginning in ninth grade and culminating in a bachelor's degree and an unfinished teaching credential that I promised to complete once I was settled in a new city (spoiler: I didn’t)—the routine was the same. I would meticulously plan my schedule, gather a collection of empty notebooks, and convince myself that this year would be different. I would finally manage my time effectively, maintain focus, and hand in all my assignments punctually. No more late-night scrambles to catch up on readings or papers that should have been completed weeks earlier.

Inevitably, by mid-October, the year felt like a failure. My enthusiasm was often derailed by new hobbies, romantic interests, or hours spent in the library exploring topics far more engaging than Moby-Dick or pre-calculus. My grand plans would slip away unnoticed.

Well, there’s always next year…

While I managed to achieve decent grades—enough to graduate near the top of my class in both high school and college—I was painfully aware that my efforts were half-hearted, often rushed, and left me feeling unfulfilled. I constantly worried about the day when my facade would crumble, revealing that I wasn’t as capable as everyone believed. The truly talented students seemed to have everything together, while I struggled just to get out of bed in time to prepare for school.

Someone—though likely not Einstein—once remarked that insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly while expecting a different outcome. For a decade, I drove myself a little crazy by tying my success to an unrealistic standard of perfection that I believed I had to maintain from the first day of school until the last.

What if I had allowed myself to embrace the space between perfection and failure? How much more beneficial would it have been to adopt a mindset of “there’s always tomorrow” instead of “there’s always next year”?

New Year’s resolutions remind me of the ambitious plans I made for school years gone by: a setup for inevitable disappointment.

There’s something invigorating about a new calendar and a fresh planner filled with potential, making you think this could be the year everything clicks into place. However, transformation isn’t instantaneous; you can’t reinvent yourself overnight, even if it’s on the cusp of January 1st.

As I began drafting this essay in January, I envisioned it as my kickoff for a year of regular publishing (“Sounds just like a New Year’s resolution,” my children’s father joked). Yet, life, as it often does, intervened, and this piece languished, nearly complete, in my queue.

Even if I finished it, I knew it would be challenging—nearly impossible—to carve out time to write consistently in the following busy months, making regular publishing seem unlikely. So, what was the purpose?

Even when I think I have a lesson mastered, it appears I still have much to learn about applying it in my own life.

Now, in May, I find myself with over twenty unfinished essays awaiting completion. I have a vague desire to publish more regularly but lack a concrete plan. Instead of promising, “I’ll write daily and publish twice a week,” I aim to prioritize writing more frequently and share when I have something meaningful to express.

In the space between perfection and failure lies the opportunity to persist. A new school year, a new year, a fresh month, or even an ordinary Wednesday in the middle of the year can serve as a great starting point.

What do you aspire to do? Why not take that first step today?

Chapter 2: Embracing Change Through Music

Music can serve as a powerful motivator for change and reflection. The following videos explore themes of self-discovery and growth.

The first video, "Same Old Me - Official Music Video" by Geneviève Racette, encapsulates the journey of self-acceptance and the complexities of personal evolution.

The second video, "Tame Impala - New Person, Same Old Mistakes," delves into the struggles of reconciling past habits with the desire for renewal and change.