Well, it’s a new year. Traditionally, that means it’s the season for New Year’s resolutions.
For me, it’s a season for depression. Why? Because I know that I’ll be compelled to make promises to myself that I most definitely will NOT be able to keep. Why even bother? Sure, I sometimes have a good start; but then…THEN things go off-kilter for me. Before I know it, I’m sitting in the living room scarfing down the alcoholic fruit salad that my mom cobbled together from the leftover strawberries and fruit punch. It’s delicious and wonderful, yes, but it’s not helping me maintain my healthy and attractive weight (which I wanted to do this year, thank you very much).
Don’t even get me started on the times when I DON’T get anything started. I’m still more than a little angry at myself for not writing anything on January 1st, and that anger just stops me from writing anything more coherent than a string of self-loathing curses. I try to deal with it by engaging in various escapist tactics: watching shows, reading books, playing video games, and going out to either eat something nice or do something to inspire relaxation. Clearly, it doesn’t work. But I do it because it makes me feel better, and I haven’t really felt good about myself in a long time – mainly because I’ve come to recognize in myself a lack of resolve. I start projects. I never finish them.
Because it’s too. Damn. Hard.
Stop snickering perverts. I know you’re out there. I’M ONE OF YOU.
Back on topic: I give up. It’s something I’m good at. I wish I sucked at this kind of thing more, but I don’t. I’m really good at giving up, and something about being good at something (no matter how self-destructive it is) actually feels kind of nice. And believe me, I’m a champ at giving up on stuff because it would be easier to just leave things be. Seriously, I’m this close to not actually posting this because it’s too much of a commitment to keep a blog going, especially when I have put other, arguably more important things on my plate. Like my job, which gives me money that I can use for various things.
Granted, the various things that I spend my money on are difficult to enjoy these days. I find myself way too worried about a lot of things. Things I’d rather not enumerate here, because they involve other people and they deserve their privacy. Things I don’t particularly like thinking about, but are generally top-of-mind because the universe – okay, mom too (well you DO, mom!) – likes to remind me.
Maybe my New Year’s resolution should be to strengthen my resolve. Maybe the more resolute I am, the less I’ll hate myself. Maybe I’ll be less prone to giving in to my self-hatred.
Hell, maybe I’ll have less trouble with writing again. What do you think?
Should I be more like this guy?