I don’t make them. I mean I do, but then I quickly abandon them. I tell everyone I don’t make them so I don’t have to tell them I’ve already quit doing whatever I promised myself I wouldn’t do, or stopped doing whatever I promised myself I would do. Last night I fell off the wagon, which I’d only been riding for three days: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. By Thursday, I needed/wanted a drink.
Apparently I’m not alone. Today, January 13, 2023, is Quitters’ Day–the day when everyone quits, gives up, abandons their New Year’s resolutions. The second Friday of January is the date by which we’ve all decided it’s just too difficult to change our behavior:
“Quitter’s Day is set aside to recognize those who set new year goals and fail to achieve them — and to encourage and equip them to try again and ultimately succeed. Research has shown that people quit their resolutions for the year by the second Friday of January.”
Fascinating! I’m part of the 80%. Do I get extra points for quitting early? I didn’t plan to resolve anything. I mean I have no resolve. I really just want to survive–survive the return to teaching, the winter, the next few years of my life. Drinking, even in moderation, probably doesn’t prolong my life. But how bad is it really? I mean the battles I wage with myself may be doing more harm than the booze. Perhaps I could give myself permission to be imperfect, to have the occasional evening of whiskey or wine.
“Progress not perfection.” I exercised every day this week so far = progress. I woke up early and wrote–at least a little bit–every morning this week = progress. I kept up with my classes in person and online = progress. I made time to read a book = progress. I practiced the piano = progress. I knit a sock = progress. I skied = progress. I avoided the TV news most evenings = progress. I spent quality time with my cats, daughter, and husband = progress. I wrote and mailed thank you notes for Christmas = progress. I came to this coffee shop and wrote a post for my blog = progress.
I resolve not to worry about being the imperfect being that I am. I resolve to be enough, for now.