All work and no play makes Michelle a dull girl

New year, new you. That’s the saying that most us hate and many us partake in come the new year. I’ve found that I hate resolutions. I don’t see the point in them. I always feel that I set myself up to fail. I don’t know if it this is because in the past I have set one too many resolutions for myself or not, but the fact of the matter is I don’t like the word resolution. According to the dictionary resolution means the following: a firm decision to do or not do something. The action of solving a problem, dispute, or contentious matter. Granted, the word is nothing particularly horrible because in many ways resolutions help us accomplish goals.

For some reason when I don’t call them actual goals I feel that I accomplish nothing.  Though last year I felt like a failure about 90% of the time.  There’s always something I should have said no to and I didn’t.  I packed in so much last year that I felt like I was drowning on some days.  I’m not saying that I haven’t already planned and have packed in as much as possible for this year, but my goal is to do so in a way where I’m not overwhelmed.  I actually bought a planner this year that lasts for two years.  I thought it was five, but apparently it’s just a two year planner. I’ve never had a planner that didn’t merely fit in a purse, but I love this so far.

Why?  Because it has doubled over as a journal.  It allows me to remind myself that if I absolutely can’t accomplish one of the items on my to do list for the day that there’s another day to conquer it.  It allows me to plan down time.  It allows me to plot out realistic goals in accordance to what I already have planned.  It allows me to tell myself not to feel bad when I say no to plans with people and not to stretch myself so thin that I just cut myself off and sit isolated because I feel like I can’t deal with my own problems yet alone anyone else’s problems.  How could I be of help to anyone when I can’t even help myself?

It’s a question I asked myself a lot last year. Thankfully, I have friends that kept pushing me and were understanding beyond belief when I actually was real with them.  I spent most of this past year on a roller-coaster of depression.  It grew progressively worse around the holidays this year.  I thought of my mother a lot this year.  I bawled for thirty minutes before going to see Elton John because I made the fatal mistake of listening to his music while getting ready.  The song that hit me was Crocodile Rock.  I have so many good memories to that song with my mother, along with many other songs, that I just could not stop crying.

Yes, my hormones were kinda crazy around that time, but I cannot help but think hormones or not I needed that cry.  I needed that release.  I wasn’t so kind to myself this past year and every little mistake I made I amplified times a thousand.  I told myself I was a horrible friend.  I could do more.  I could make more time for people if I wanted to, but the truth was I really couldn’t last year.  I couldn’t because I didn’t have it in me.  Many days showering was a struggle. That’s depression.

Depression is not the stigma that we grew up with where we think that people are heavily medicated and sad all the time.  It’s looking at a dirty house and realizing I can’t clean it.  I can’t contribute in ways I know I need to.  It’s telling myself that even though I haven’t showered in two days I can go a third.  It’s taking a shower but telling myself my hair is fine and doesn’t need washed even though it’s been almost a week.  Dry shampoo can only do so much.  It’s wanting to do something more than anything that brings you joy but not no capability to move from a spot on the couch.  It’s still feeling alone even when you’re around others.  It’s not completing your reading goal because all you really want to do is sleep.  Depression isn’t laziness, it’s depression and it’s crippling.

I could not remember the last time I wrote here until today, and I feel like I’ve apologized on more than one occasion for that, but I’m going to try to write things here at least three times a week.  That’s my goal.  I want to be able to get them out.  I want to write encouraging thoughts to myself.  I want to bring back the optimist that so many people knew me as once upon a time.  I’m tired of negativity.  I want to place check marks in my planner next to my to do list.  I want to be logical toward attaining my goals but also remember that I have to give myself a break. I have to take breaks.  I need to have fun.  I just need to believe I can.  I need to make each day a masterpiece.  I can do that even if I have bad days.  I can do this.  You can do this.  We have this one step at a time.

Happy New Year to you all.  I mean it when I say I will be around more this year.

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