I don't like resolutions because I tend to break them, and while self-loathing and disgust is always fun, I try to avoid disappointment at all costs. But then, I don't always celebrate because saying goodbye to the last year is both bittersweet and exciting. Unlike many, 2016 did not mark a year of horror for me. There were those moments, as there are every year, where I wondered what else would go wrong--and then something did and my question was answered. This, too, seems to be pattern--not for 2016, but for life.
Maybe those are the words, then?
Dear 2017, I am not perfect, nor will you be. I understand that. Maybe you could understand that I will do my best...my best to be happy, and to spread happiness. My best to be a devoted wife, mother, family member, and friend. My best to be motivated and innovative, to not succumb to the joy-suck that is comparison, or the band-aid that is anger and judgment. And I will do my best to look at the world as and its citizens as mine--not theirs, not his or hers, not them or they--but mine. My people, my friends, my government, my neighbors...my world. Mostly, I guess I want you to understand that I am in love with my life, even on the days where the only thing I can use to describe it starts with an F and ends with "uck" or "ucking" or "uckery" (and, fine...sometimes, starts with MOTHER). Those days...yeah, they make the others all the sweeter, right?
So, it's your turn, beautiful people. Whatever 2016 was for you, I hope 2017 understands your promise, and you understand that with all darkness comes beauty, even if it's just a night for Netflix and chill (like, for real. Not the euphematic way the kids are doing it, but an actual wine bucket, popcorn, and binge marathon of Grey's or Scandal or Scrubs).