The husband and I went on a long road trip over the holidays, from our current home in Atlanta to New York City. It afforded us the rare opportunity to chat for hours on end without any screens or distractions. We’ve been married for seven years, but life became a whirlwind the moment we stepped down from the altar. So you’d be surprised how rare it is for us to find uninterrupted time together. But this past trip, we had nearly fifty hours of highway time ahead of us, and apparently, I had a lot to talk about. At one point, I went on and on about all the food I planned on eating once we got back to New York, when I caught a mirthful grin on James’ face.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, halting my food monologue.
“You. Sometimes you get so excited, you don’t know where to stop.” Here, he chuckled and gestured at the clock on our car dashboard. “You’ve been talking about pizza for the last ten minutes!”
He wasn’t wrong. I’m a rambler. When I talk, I’ll find a stray piece of yarn I like and pull and pull at the subject until the entire ball has unraveled in my hands because, truly, I don’t know when to stop.
But when it came to making my resolutions for the new year, I decided to use that to my advantage. I don’t know when resolution-making fell out of style, but it feels like no one ever makes them anymore. If they do, I hear a lot of the same -
Start going to the gym
Create a new diet plan (no more fried foods! no more junk!)
Travel more
Learn a new skill or hobby
I actually pulled these from a list called 'Top 10 Most Common New Year's resolutions,' and, hey, no judgement here. I've vowed (and subsequently failed) to do a lot of these myself during my lifetime. But this year, my resolutions aren't so much to start things, but to continue well.
Last month was a bit of a dark month for me, for a number of reasons. I won't get into it all, but because of it, I lost much of the will and stamina that's kept me going thus far into this sabbatical. French got hard. Working out felt monotonous. Even my reading life suffered, so much that my local librarian noticed.
"We haven't seen much of you in here," she remarked as she scanned my books.
I can't remember what I said in reply, but I know I didn't read any of the books I borrowed that day. I returned them a few weeks later, untouched, and opted to slide them into the unmanned bin outside, with childish fear that the librarians would somehow intuit that I hadn't read a single word from any of them.
And yet, I moved forward. Though my books went untouched in December, I trudged ahead with French. I never let myself miss a day, even if it meant I was doing a Duolingo lesson right before bedtime. I also never stopped writing. I know it doesn't seem like it here, since I haven't posted in a while, but I would force myself to sit and pour some serious ink into journals and notebooks. It taught me something about myself - that even when my desire is dead, my sense discipline remains determined.
Again, no shame or shadows for those of you who are vowing to start new endeavors in 2023! It's exciting to start something new, and I'm already having so much fun hearing about my friends' colorful resolutions for the new year. I also know some who have decided to choose a word or theme for the year, like 'Purpose' or 'Connection'. As for me, I'm resolved to - as my husband wryly observed - not know when to stop.
So this year is about continuing well. This year, I won't stop -
Learning French
It's hard to learn a language in your thirties (nearly forty!). But I'm 160-ish days into my voyage française, and I've gone from not knowing a word to reading and speaking whole paragraphs. The progress toward fluency feels slow, but in the interest of finding more opportunities to practice, I've joined a class at the local Alliance Francaise.
Writing
In his book, On Writing, Stephen King recalls his favorite story about James Joyce, the famous Irish novelist. The writer was found by a friend laying supine on his table, looking rather down in the dumps.
"What's wrong, James?" asked the friend. "Is it work?"
James nodded without even lifting his head. Wasn't it always?
"How many words did you get today?" the friend pressed.
With his face still pressed into the table, Joyce muttered: "Seven."
The friend seemed encouraged. "Seven? But James...that's good, at least for you!"
Joyce finally looked up. "Yes, I suppose it is. But I don't know what order they go in!"
I've felt the strain of that murderous writer's block, constipating my thoughts and words with what feels like a wall of concrete. I've also felt the opposite, where the words rush out of me like diarrhea (why does writing always remind me of bathroom habits?). Whichever way I feel on any given day day, I'm promising myself to sit and write at least a little each day. Hopefully that'll mean posting more regularly as well!
Reading
December was the first time - in years - that I went an entire month without opening a single book cover. It created its own chicken-and-egg proposition - did I feel gloomy because I stopped reading, or did I stop reading because of the gloom? Either way, I didn't care for it, and I don't ever plan to repeat such a hiatus this year. As the King puts it, "Reading is the creative center of a writer's life. The trick is to teach yourself to read in small sips as well as in long swallows."
Thankfulness
Last year, I realized how important gratitude is. In the past few months, the moments when I stepped away from the storm clouds to express a simple 'thank you' to friends, family, and strangers were like breaths of fresh air. So more of that. Don't be surprised if you suddenly receive a random and rambling message from me down the road, thanking you for a random text or long-ago act of kindness.
There's more I want to do this year, but I don't want the first post of the year to be an encyclopedia of resolutions. Thank you for joining me for a new year, friends! I'm moved by all of you who come to visit me here. Some of you are old friends, and then there are others who found their way here from the clear blue sky. I'm so grateful for you all.