Out with the old, in with the new...

Another new year beckons with the promise held in blank journal pages and a calendar, empty save for noted birthdays and anniversaries. A new year. A symbolic fresh start. Where will 2017 take me, take us?

I loved that promise of a fresh start even as a kid sitting at my little desk writing out a plan - for the new week, the new month, or the new year. If I could succeed at being a better person, all would be well. Maybe dad wouldn't drink so much, and mom wouldn't be so sad if only I were a better daughter. I would quit fighting with my brother and help more around the house. My parents argued about our religious needs and where to get them, so while I did have the notion of a loving and caring God, there was no personal relationship with a Deity or a church. Instead, I'd cut out sayings and adages from magazines (usually the Reader's Digest) and tape them to the wall, seeking both instruction and structure. I was taught, mostly through osmosis, a sense of right and wrong, a work ethic, fairness and compassion, but nothing about emotional maturity or about getting from point A to point B. Maybe it was the times. Maybe it was the alcoholism. Maybe I wasn't paying attention.

From far too early an age (12?) the new beginning included losing weight. Good grief - I wanted to lose weight when I weighed 100, 110, 120 pounds (i.e. a long time ago).  Always the quest to be better, look better, fit better in the world. Thin, and with a cute boyfriend, I'd be OK. Thin, with a cute boyfriend, and a cute wardrobe instead of hand-me-downs, I'd be OK. Thin, and if I were basically someone else, I'd be OK.

I recently ran across a list of resolutions from 1979 when I was 24 and in a new relationship. I vowed to: lose weight, stop smoking, cut down on drinking, take a class, be more adventurous, stop being jealous. But how could I not be jealous when the other girls were thinner, prettier, drank like ladies and were more comfortable in the world than me? I was definitely steeped in the mire of comparison, of judging my insides by others' outsides.

I sometimes ache for that young woman who so desperately wanted to be better, wanted to feel better, wanted to improve, without a single clue as to what that meant, and without the skills needed to ask the questions or seek guidance that might've helped. Instead, I toasted the new year, the new week, the new month, with the grand intent that this time would be different. But it never was.

And then I made it to treatment and was introduced to the 12 Steps. Eureka! Instructions! The guidebook I'd been unconsciously looking for. Here was a map to the "better" I'd always sought, and the secret was that it was in me, not out there in someone or something else. I didn't stop making resolutions (though now called them "intentions") when I got to recovery, but the tone shifted. I was told I could start my day over anytime. What a gift! I didn't have to wait until the first of January, or the start of a new month, to try a new behavior. And sober, the chances that I would try that new behavior and keep trying until I'd made it my own, increased exponentially. I learned to set goals, to identify the steps that would get me there, and to ask for help along the way. Eureka.

I am still thrilled with a blank journal and a new calendar. My heart quickens with the anticipation of a fresh start, even if it is simply another day.  I have a few goals for the coming year, but these days they are more about consistency than striving for a more/less or better "me." With each passing year, I am more fully understanding that I truly am just fine, as-is. The cosmic exhale that comes with being OK is a relief beyond what I would've imagined. That is the goal. That is the supreme intention - to remember that I am enough.

This year-end, my dear spouse and I will go to the beach, to the town where I got sober all those years ago. Along with attending a recovery conference, we'll light a fire and write down both what we want to release from 2016 and what we hope to embrace in the coming months, not because we are lacking, but as a means to consciously create space for the good that is in each of us.

How have your goals and intentions shifted over the years? Do you have a year end ritual? Peace and blessings for 2017. Let's see where the new year leads.