In the days leading up to and immediately preceding the New Year, everyone talks about making resolutions, choosing words of the year, or setting goals. For the past three days, I feel I’ve been bombard with questions like “What are your resolutions?” “What’s your word of the year?” “What are your goals for 2020?”
I still haven’t caught up to the fact that this is 2017. (I swear parts of last year fast-forwarded because they went by in such a blur.) But here we in another new year (and almost one month done of this new year). But where I would normally write about making resolutions on how I plan on eating healthier, organizing better, walking more, or keeping a diary, prepare for a shock. I didn’t make resolutions <gasp!> this year.
Every year before this one I have made resolutions. And then subsequently failed to keep every.last.one. (I think I failed to meet the diary-writing resolution every year since 1986). I not only made resolutions, I wrote them down, made check-lists, and used other goal-achieving strategies. I joined groups, tracked progress, and told others about them (for the “accountability”). But I still failed. Usually by March.
And failure sucks.