It's not uncommon to hear "New Year, New Me" as we inch closer to January 1st. This year, I can't begin to express how ridiculous this sounds in my ears. Because, as some of you know, this year has kicked my tail.
I'll be the first to admit, it's not been all bad. I've started a new job with people I love and work I find fulfilling. I've made new friends and have been welcomed into new homes and hearts. I've found support and care from people I didn't even know existed this time last year; and now I can't picture life without them. There are days I feel more and more confident in who I am, and I'm learning better every day how and when to draw boundaries to protect my mental health. There are certainly things to celebrate.
But in light of "New Year, New Me" statements, I can't help but recognize that while I've grown, I've also had to unlearn and relearn some things in 2023. I realized that most poignantly this morning when I finally admitted to myself that the coping skills I've acquired over the years have not been working well, and sometimes not at all. So I did something this morning that I haven't done since the first time I was in therapy. When I was first learning my coping skills, my depression levels were awful. And so my motivation to actually get up out of bed and try any of my new coping skills (many of which seemed futile anyway) was next to nonexistent. But I'm a list maker. Lists help me organize my thoughts and give me a sense of accomplishment as I mark my way through them. So years ago, I would sit down and think through activities I normally enjoy and daily "self care" tasks, and I would "schedule" time for these. I knew that if I left the day unplanned under the guise of "I'll do what comes up in the moment," then I would never actually do anything.
This morning, when I sat down at my dining room table with my cup of coffee, I knew that while there was a New Year coming, I needed some tips from Old Me. You see, Old Me is a survivor. She is fierce and soft at the same time and is known to be constantly searching and working toward health and happiness and wholeness. That's the Me I needed this morning. I needed the wisdom of making a list and telling myself that it's okay if I do silly little things, purely because they bring me joy.
So I'm here to encourage you that if you're entering this New Year feeling everything but new and shiny and bright, that's okay. You're not alone. Maybe what we need is not something new, but instead something true. Something that we've tested and tried, and will continue to test and try as we continue to grow into our most true versions of ourselves. Perhaps this is a time to lean on our own wisdom and gained knowledge of our own selves, and to rely on those who know us but still permit us to change and grow.
I'm working through my list today. Writing, crafting, and generally taking care of myself. It's nothing new and flashy, but it's what I need. I'm retracing my steps, following those breadcrumbs my therapists have left me through the years. And eventually, I know I'll find my way back to inner peace and contentment. I pray the same for you, dear reader. May this New Year bring us closer to one another and closer to our true selves.
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