Living Life


I didn’t pick a word for the new year.

I didn’t make any resolutions. I didn’t even really make any goals.

I haven’t done any deep cleaning despite the Internet’s obsession with all things Kondo. Well, that’s not true. I put the existing “donate this pile” pile into a bag and placed it in the back of my car. After doing so, I felt momentarily inspired and decided to deal with the Purse Issue.

What’s the Purse Issue? I don’t change purses all that often, but when I do, I seem totally incapable of getting rid of the old purse. What if I need a solid green boho slouch bag? Or any of my floral print fabric bags from my handmade phase? Houndstooth? And what about my many camera bags despite the fact that they’ve been used beyond an inch of their lives?

The bags, originally contained to one large-sized tub, overflowed to the floor of the storage side of our basement. You could also find every single reusable bag from every single professional conference I have attended since 2009 in this heap. I have five reusable bags in my vehicle. My husband carries about ten in his. I also have two in the purse I’m currently carrying.

I didn’t need these bags.

So, I packed them all up in a box. They also now sit in the back of my car. Holiday weekend and snow, they’ll stay there until Tuesday.

But no, I haven’t made any grand plans for the year.

2018 taught me that plans, even the best laid ones, mean very little. I made so many goals last year. I even followed through with a number of them, starting a new job, running two half marathons, and losing the weight I put on during the emotional difficulties of 2017. But all of that changed in one minute on a September night.

I don’t know what this year holds. It started off on a difficult note, threw a little death our way, and the rest of the year seems a little bit if-y as to whether or not we can avoid more of the same. On the other hand, I’m making some great strides professionally and my sons make me happy to be their mother on the regular. (You know, mostly. They’re human, as am I.)

So no, I don’t have goals, resolutions, a word, anything. Instead, I’m holding on to a little hope. For what?

I guess we’ll find out.

Living Life

Dear 2016: More Me

Dear 2016: More Me

Dear 2016,

Hi! It’s nice to meet you! I’m excited you’re here! Exclamation points!

You know, I felt kinda sad to see your predecessor, 2015, walk out the door last night at midnight. 2015 was the year I needed to have, one of growth and forward motion and… well, no one dying. That’s always key to a good year.

So, 2016, I’m excited you’re here not because I hated last year, but because I legitimately feel hopeful that this year will continue in the same way. I set some goals last year, and achieved most of them. I’m not setting goals this year; no resolutions, no weight loss, no must-do-or-the-year-is-a-failure type of things.

I do, of course, want to run some more races. I want to read books. I want to travel places with my family. I want to kick butt at work. I want to work on some stuff in the house. I want to write.

These are the things I do every year. They are things that make me who I am. In doing them, I am not hoping to become some better version of myself. I might, in fact, just become more me.

That’s what I’m looking for, 2016. More me.

I hope you’ll be kind, of course. But I’m just going to keep doing my thing, keep being the me that I am. You keep doing your thing, that whole changing of days and moving forward. Together, I hope we reach the end of the year feeling just as hopeful about your predecessor as I feel about you today.