Call it audacious

But don't call it a resolution

The devastation in and around Los Angeles due to wildfires has been heartbreaking to watch. So many people are putting their safety at risk to help contain, combat, and document the horror unfolding across the city. You are all heroes. If folks near and far are able to and looking for ways to help, I recommend donating to World Central Kitchen, Pasadena Humane Society, and Los Angeles Mutual Aid.

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Today’s accompanying tune: “Same Old Song” by The Lumineers

I’m not one for resolutions, at least not in the traditional sense. I don’t enjoy flipping over the calendar and resolving to be a new me, a better me, an entirely different me. In some ways, it feels flippant — what’s the point of trying to eat healthier while the world is going up in flames and agricultural workers are opting not to show up to work due to the fear of getting deported? What’s the point of resolving to be a better person, a kinder, softer person, in a world that has repeatedly shown us its meanest, harshest face?

And though it’s easy to chalk up my resolution resistance as a symptom of existential dread and building ennui, there’s something deeper that sits uneasily behind any attempt to push a set of goals forth into the new year. Maybe it’s that my birthday is a few short weeks after the official start of any new year, making the turning of time just offset enough to come unbalanced. Why reflect on the year that has been in December when I can reflect on my own previous year in January? I’ve also had very few age-related goals — and the ones I have had were more convenient than propulsory — so I’m not sure that explanation is sufficient, either. I am a goal-oriented person; I’ve excelled in academic and professional settings because I absolutely thrive on crossing out to-do lists and marking tasks complete. I enjoy the process of setting my eye on a prize, any prize, and working until I have it in my grasp. I ran a marathon last year, and I’m currently working my way through a month-long challenge now to run 267 miles in the month of January. I won a journalism award in my first year of reporting. I hiked the tallest mountain in the Lower 48 and trained for months to do so. Goals have undeniably served me well, as long as I can convince myself the prize is worth having. Once a goal reveals itself as arbitrary — particularly in professional or corporate settings, which is to say most if not all goals in that realm — my motivation evaporates quicker than a drop of sweat in the desert sun. If I deem the prize not worthy, then there is no misleading or tricking myself into thinking otherwise. Thus is the unfortunate balance of stubbornness and willpower.

New Years’ resolutions, then, fall squarely into the arbitrary category. Maybe it is the timing, as I mentioned, or maybe it is the ennui. Maybe it is the unpredictability of a year yet to unfold and the vagueness with which many resolutions hover at the edge of our consciousness without ever prodding us forward. Eating healthier or moving more are both popular resolutions and are arguably positive life choices, but without a way forward, they merely hover, a sharp whisper in the ear each time we sit on the couch to read or order the special at a restaurant. I’m not sure about you, but deprivation and guilt have never served me well. And so, I choose to leave them at the door.

Goals should be audacious. Goals should make you cringe and worry about whether they’re even possible. Goals should look you in the eye and ask you to show up for yourself day after day because that’s how you grow, that’s how you progress. They take years of planning, of training, of strategizing, of saving. They don’t always fit neatly into a 12-month period, capped off in the darkest, coldest part of the year. They need to breathe, to take up as much space as they demand, and then to unwind with an equal amount of grace and attention as they were prepared for. It’s a bit of an arduous process, I’ll admit, but in that grind is where I’ve gotten to know myself best, the source of growth and progress so many resolution-makers are looking for in the first place.

It’s not pretty or easy work — and work is the right word in this case — but it is an act of love for yourself to make it happen. Unlike some resolution-makers, I am not staring at myself in the mirror with utter contempt, though there have been years where that statement would not have been true. I don’t mind a bit of change, and I am far from any idealized version of self I could ever have. But I am pretty damn pleased with how far I’ve come and how far I’ve still left to go. It feels audacious, cringey, scary, to think about where I would be had I opted against setting goals, spending time with myself, working through past traumas and lives I’ve lived to come to this new year. I will continue to set goals, some of which I will achieve and others of which I will come up short. I will learn, I will grow, I will adjust, I will become a version of myself I am proud to work with every day. I will choose to fill myself up, give myself a pep talk, make sure I am nourished and supported in anything I take on. I will not overextend, will not overpromise and underdeliver, will not take for granted the fact that I can be here today doing things and spending time with people I love. I will go forward with excitement, not apprehension nor obligation. I will repeat last year’s phrase — “why not?” — and answer honestly.

Does that make for a compelling resolution? Is it an outright rejection? Neither of these answers are clear, at least not to me. In previous years, I’ve instead looked towards a word — an intention, if you will — to guide the year. 2023 found me quitting my job, hitting the road, reconnecting with friends, and recovering. That year, my word was something along the lines of “connect” — with myself, with my goals, with my people. 2024 was “courage” — traveling internationally, meeting new people, going out on as many limbs as possible and seeing what would happen. It was a year-long experiment I feel confident in labeling a success. It was also draining, emotionally and otherwise, and I was in full hibernation mode come December. Looking at 2025, I am missing a succinct word that captures my intention, which is to prioritize myself, my needs, my hobbies, my joys, as much as I do other people’s. To take myself into consideration when making decisions. To advocate for myself as often as I advocate for others. To have the courage to be the person I want to be. Maybe that sounds audacious. Maybe that’s okay.

Here’s to a new year.

- Megan