I was ill over the New Year: some kind of stomach bug that before the Covids, no one would have thought anything about. Lots of liquids, lots of sleep and lots of lovely friends asking if they could get my anything. The thing about being ill is you have to stop. And then the thinking and the feeling starts. And frankly who needs all that administration?
So there I was in enforced stillness and silence as the rest of the world prepared to usher in and celebrate a brand new year and a brand new start. Loudly and rushingly.
The noise of Resolutions. Manifestations. Intentions. Givings up. Vegananurys. Dry January. Gentle jogs. Going to the gym. Gratitude lists. Promises. And the push to be better, to do better, to be perfect – it was a lot. Was I ready to smash 2023?
I spent a long time in my enforced stillness and silence trying to work out what my resolutions should be this year. I didn’t have fomo about not going out, I had fomo about missing out on a chance to change everything about my life that I was dissatisfied with. I had fomo about missing out on a chance to manifest the perfect life.
Then I started to think about the things people were making resolutions about: weight, appearance, homes, money, diet, relationships, jobs. Did I want to change those things? Sure, they could do with some tweaking. But would changing those outside things help?
And that’s when it came to me. I was seeking change based on what I felt I should do to be like others. In comparing myself to others I’d fallen short and now I should change. I was looking outside myself and looking at all the ways I didn’t measure up and thinking a gentle jog everyday for January might cure a deep down feeling in me that I wasn’t enough as I was.
I wanted to be seen to be perfect, to have the perfect stuff, perfect body, perfect relationship, perfect life, be the perfect brand so that I fitted in.
So in the enforced silence and stillness of being ill, I realised that the only New Years resolution I needed for 2023 was that it’s ok to make mistakes. That giving myself permission to make mistakes, to not have to have the perfect anything, might actually lead to me accepting myself as I am. Loving myself as I am and then changing bad habits wouldn’t have to be a punishment but a pleasure.
So 2023 for me is the year of allowing myself to make mistakes, to remember that all mistakes teach me where to love myself in places I’ve never been loved before. I think there’s more warmth in that than telling myself I have to get up at 5am every morning and smash the granny out of my life to be successful. And I’m hoping it will help me to gently give myself a break if I need help with something I really can’t do or change.
I have concluded that being ill isn’t so bad. Change takes time, love, warmth, gentleness and making lots of mistakes. Lots of liquids, a big nap and lovely friends also help.