As the year progresses, people get so upset when those resolutions and goals are broken. But, they forget that tomorrow is a new day and just because the clock struck midnight on December 31st doesn't mean that this year or this day is any different from the one that came before. In theory our resolutions can be made at any time; they can be amended into more obtainable goals, they can be modified to reflect new paths we lead, or they can be forgotten for smaller tasks that are easier to achieve gratification. Resolutions do not have to come as the new year dawns; they can be made at any point.
However, what the New Year is good for is to reflect upon all the moments that came before it. We are ending our year with big holiday celebrations, more time with family and friends, and nostalgia for what once was. This is the perfect time to look back at the previous year by ourselves or with our loved ones and celebrate our successes or weep for our losses. We often forget to do this as the days pass, but this is the one time where we crave a new start, a reflection for old times, or a reevaluation of where we are headed.
2017 was an eye opening year for me. It was one where I realized my limits and where I finally realized just how far I have to go on my journey in life.
I began 2017 with a huge change to my professional life; I realized how horrible certain situations can be when you have the courage to look a little deeper, I swapped classrooms, and found an amazing teaching partner. Through the hardships that followed, I came to the sound conclusion that situations define who we are as people and I was worth so much more than I was given credit for. I learned that my instincts cannot be overlooked and that certain people are put in our lives to reaffirm that we are on the right path. It was a challenge, but one that I met and one that made me a better person and teacher.
2017 was also the year that I faced an unexpected medical situation. I spent time in the hospital, hating my body and my luck. I felt pain that was beyond anything that I could have imagined and faced days where I could barely get out of bed. I saw doctor after doctor, had test after test, and finally found relief. I realized that genetics are awful in more ways than one and that my body can only handle so much. I am still healing and facing each day with unexpected challenges but I came out of a horrible situation with a new outlook on what I can and cannot do. I learned that health is more important than pushing yourself to limits you cannot reach.
But more importantly, 2017 presented my personal life with something that I could never have imagined. On December 12, 2017, my brother died. Typing those words is truly excruciating and I do so with blurry vision. Tomorrow, it will be one month since he passed away and I find it so incredibly hard to believe. I guess I am still floating in the denial stage of grief. But it is best summed up by words from an incredible friend:
"I cannot believe I am writing a sympathy card for Charlie because I always thought he was invincible."
Those words are on constant repeat inside my head because they sum up everything I feel whenever I think about my brother. I knew the logistics of his disease growing up. I memorized the statistics regarding mortality rates for people who had his disease. I saw the progressiveness of his muscles deteriorating over the past year from his dependency on his breathing machine to the way his body slowly wasted away as it loss muscle mass. I heard the defeat in his voice when the pain was too much. In theory, I knew what was coming, but I never fully came to terms of what it would be like when he passed away.
I didn't think about how hard I would cry when my mom called me on the phone to deliver the news. I didn't think about how awful it would be to see his body no longer breathing as we visited him one last time in Hospice. I didn't think about the irrational thoughts that I would think as we walked into his room; how I would want to reach out and put the breathing mask back on his face because he couldn't breath without it or how I thought maybe the doctors were wrong and they just couldn't wake him up. I didn't think about how extremely hard it would be to plan a cremation or a memorial service. I didn't about reading a eulogy remembering the good and bad times of a life that once was. I didn't think about how after I wouldn't want to look at sympathy cards or how tired I would be to hear people say "I'm sorry for your loss". I didn't think about how a death doesn't end at the memorial; how there are possession to be sorted through and empty spaces to be filled. I didn't think about how I burst into tears at the most inane tasks, such as putting on my makeup or shopping for Christmas gifts. I didn't about how a death around the holidays would be so hard because family gatherings show just how much everything has changed and how noticeable it is if someone is missing.
I didn't think about how my mental health would be affected. I didn't realize that everyday would be a struggle to get out of bed. I didn't think about how loss could take your breath away and steal your energy. I didn't think about how many thoughts can race through your mind to create a fear of "down time". I didn't consider how crippling it would be to hear about your loved ones grief or how death would affect them.
I never spent the time thinking about how I would react to the loss of such an influential person in life. Death affects everyone differently and I never realized how hard it would be to grieve and to move on when everything is different.
But with loss of my brother, I realized that life and health are really too short. I realized that sometimes the standards that we hold ourselves to, or the standards that others hold us to, can tear us down when we least expect it. I realized that my brother's death was the point in my life where I would acknowledged how much I took myself for granted.
I have always been a perfectionist. In school, I wanted, and had, to get the best grades and as I continued through college and now graduate school, that need to have exemplary grades has only magnified. I have always wanted to be a mom: an extraordinary mom. I unconsciously scheduled myself to have as much meaningful time with my children as possible and I made sure that they got all the opportunities I did not have as a child, even if it killed me financially. I strived to be the best teacher I could be by continuing my schooling, attending every professional development opportunity I could get my hands on, and planning stellar learning activities. I wanted to contribute more to my family, so I joined a company as an independent consultant and began selling with all my leftover energy; I became obsessed with making the best party templates, with booking as many parties as I could, and throwing myself into my group page on social media. I had to do it all and be all for everyone and everything.
And in doing so, I broke myself. I replaced my fear with new challenges to mask what I was hiding and denying. I became driven to escape the complicated realities of living with the knowledge of loving someone who was gravely ill. I pushed myself and kept pushing because I thought I could do it all and people kept saying "Wow! You're so good at that!" or "I don't know how you do it! You are a super mom!". And while their comments were well-intended, they also helped me build this unrealistic facade of who I should be and how high of a standard I needed to hold myself to.
In the weeks following my brother's death, I was able to realize I was broken. That I piled too many responsibilities on myself and forget to just be myself. Self-care took a back seat to all my responsibilities and I forgot to acknowledge that I was only human.
Then I talked with a wise friend who always knows just what to say when I feel low. She said that instead of making a New Year's resolution, she was going to focus on a word. And as she said that, I couldn't help but think that my word for 2018 would be: Heal. Which was coincidentally her word too, proving that this is the right path to pursue right now.
In 2017, I learned a lot, but I also lost a lot. I lost a piece of myself with my brother. But I also lost the ability to care for myself. I took on a lot of responsibility, developed a lot of horrible habits, and fell down the rabbit hole into a place where I was too harsh on myself. So, 2018 will be the year where I HEAL.
2018 will be the year that I admit I need help. It will be the year that I live in the moment. It will be the year where I take on no extra responsibility. It will be the year where I learn what self-care truly means. It will be the year that I become a better me; not a better teacher, not a better wife, not a better mom, not a better sister, not a better daughter. But a better ME.
This will be the year that I heal myself from the inside out.
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