I’ve been mulling over potential New Years Resolutions for the past few weeks until yesterday, when I finally sat down to compose a post dedicated to 2016… only to delete it in desperation moments before I hit ‘publish’.
When I can’t find the words to write, or I’m dissatisfied with the product… well then I know I’m in trouble. And I am.
Last year I made the resolutions to find balance and stop riddling myself with guilt and shame. And it worked, to a point. I found joy in eating things I hadn’t consumed in years… like pizza and pastas, milk chocolates and muffins. Foods I never dreamed I would order and enjoy again without being swallowed by body shaming and sinking guilt. This year I didn’t work out to the point of over-exertion, wasn’t as rigid with my self sanctioned deadlines. I didn’t blog with as much urgency and let my email fill up with pending requests. I stopped saying yes to everything and everyone, and spent more nights just staying in. I painted less, barely cooked in, and learned the fine art of relaxation. I even missed a callback for CSI while galavanting the Swiss Alps, something that would have thrown me into a dark hole of despair a dozen months before. It was a year of learning to appreciate the here and now. But more, it was an experience in learning to love and forgive myself.
And while it felt liberating…. I fear I took it a wee bit far. Like being a cushiony 10lbs overweight, miserably disorganized and all together lost.
I’m lacking direction. I want to be an actress, but can’t catch a break. Want to be a realtor, but spend so much time spinning my wheels with clients. I want to be a writer, but haven’t found the time to finish those screenplays, apply for positions or give Traveling Fig a long overdue professional upgrade. I feel like I have all the necessary tools to do extraordinary things in life and make an impact on this world, but I’m not seeing any one thing through to full fruition.
I spent the entire day crying for something completely out of my control. Tonight, I picked up the pieces and revisited a screenplay I hadn’t edited in over a year… and I finished it. The joy of completion is fleeting for a writer, but I felt it momentarily. And in the warm embrace of accomplishment I had an epiphany of sorts.
I need to to stop dreaming and start doing, stop floating and start living. I owe it to myself to find out what I’m truly capable of achieving and I am sick and tired of waiting for life to happen to me.
And thus, a 2016 resolution has been born. This year, I’m going to DO. As simple and as profound as that. I am going to put my head down and create my destiny on my own accord. And if it all comes crashing down, I’ll use that as an opportunity to build something new. There’s no other option.
Thanks for listening to my rants as much as my raves. This blog is more than just a compilation of travel posts or healthy recipes, it’s my heart and soul scribbled out for anyone to see. The rhythmic melody of my fingers clicking away makes up a live diary of sorts. One that carries the story of my raw emotions as I clumsily make my way from twenty to thirty.