Ah, the New Year. All that talk of new beginnings, a blank book, etc. A friend of mine posted something on Facebook along the lines of, “Well, it’s almost the new year. Time for all those ‘Everything’s going to be different and perfect posts.’” I was struck by her cynicism.
Don’t get me wrong. I realize that people don’t completely reinvent themselves just because the ball drops on Times Square. The world doesn’t become a Disney movie with helpful animals dropping by to clean my house, (still waiting for that to happen), everything doesn’t magically become perfect. I’m a grown up, so I know that.
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But isn’t there something magical about new beginnings? They’re hard, sure. They can be messy, even painful. But the optimism. Isn’t that important? We haven’t’ lost our optimism. This year was a very difficult one for my family. There’s something comforting about a “This year will be better” outlook. I think it drives us to better ourselves. To pick ourselves up and try again. To strive for better habits, a better life.
I prefer a different philosophy. Everything I’ve done. Every time I didn’t take that great advice that would have made such a positive difference, every time I impulsively made that illogical decision, and every time I made just the right decision made me who I am today. If I’d followed different paths, be they better or worse, I would be a different person. And after, um, (mumbles indistinctly) years on the planet, I like me. I’ve chosen to like me. And to be proud of the accomplishments I’ve made. And not to live in regrets or what ifs.
The New Year. A blank book. What an amazing feeling. What a great thing. The possibilities are endless. Make the most of it.