Making Resolutions When There's No Room for the Dead

3 … 2 … 1 … Happy New Year!

That countdown represented all hope for a reboot. But three weeks in and 2021 is looking like 2020’s evil twin.

In addition to trying to survive the pandemic and all the adjustments it brought, I spent 2020 grieving the unexpected death of my boyfriend and dodging muck thrown by a toxic ex.

In the second week of 2021, I lost an aunt to COVID and learned that I have another aunt that is in the ICU fighting a severe case and several extended family members that are fighting it at varying levels of severity. And when my pop recently had routine bloodwork done, they found COVID antibodies in his blood. There is no end in sight.

And I am still grieving the loss of my soul mate. And still dodging my ex’s petty, but constant, narcissistic attacks. And, under the weight of it all, I have lost the passion I had for my 9-5 job.

I am not the only one packing a burden that exceeds the many stresses of the pandemic-related stay-at-home orders.

Besides starting the year with political unrest, the pandemic seems to be getting worse—at least from the perspective of exhausted, overworked hospital staff. (I have not looked at numbers or charts recently because the heart of the matter is that people are dying. Lots of people are dying. And even more are suffering). Grief has been all too common. A hospital worker has talked about how they had to bring in temporary facilities to expand the morgue—and the space still fills up. It is not quite Lucy and Ethel trying to keep up with chocolates on the assembly line, nor is it like a hydra (remove one, two take its place). But the mortician takes someone away and another immediately fills that spot. No room for the dead. And everyone dead is someone’s loved one.

Not everyone will see the same bleak picture that I do, but the memes that make 2021 the butt of “you had one job” or “hold my beer” fail jokes, as well as the one that says, “2021 is pronounced 2020 won,” and others show that this new year is hardly a fresh start.

Poppycock!

I had a notable dream last night. I was driving in a swanky beach community. It’s not somewhere I have been in real life, but it was oddly familiar. I picked my brother up at the marina and suggested we grab a bite to eat. He was concerned that we would be late, but I insisted. We found ourselves standing in a socially distanced line in a very narrow, very popular eatery. I noticed that someone had cake and asked about it. They said it came from there on the tall side tables. I looked in every box on every table. The cake was gone, but there was pie—mostly peach, possibly some apple. My brother and I got our food, and we made cake and opened a successful cakery near the eatery.

I pulled three major takeaways from this dream:

• Don’t let anyone—even the people that you trust and want along on your journey—dictate your timeline.
• Don’t settle for less than what you actually want.
• If you can’t find what you want, make it.

What does that have to do with fresh starts?

Life abounds with opportunities to reset. There seems to be a little magic on January 1, but every month has a first. And week every week has a Monday. And the beginning of the fiscal year or the school year are good places to start, too, as are the new moon, Spring Equinox, Winter Solstice, or any day that you wake up and say, “this the day.” It does not even have to be when you wake up. Everything could click at 2:32 on a Wednesday afternoon. That is your moment for a fresh start.

With the dismal existence I have had in 2020 and the start of 2021, this is my moment—right now at 5:55 on Thursday evening.

I have never been one to write formal resolutions. As a child, I was not taught to make resolutions, and it really was not important. As a student, I had other priorities. After I got married, I was focused on trying to be a good wife (to a narcissist, mind you). And after that … well … I have never done it, so why?

Why not? Maybe this is what I do differently this time—what gives me a fresh start.

I sat down and contemplated what resolutions I could make to have a healthy 2021. With the gyms still closed and a change in my housing situation precluding working out at home or in the neighborhood, fitness activities are a no-go and improvements to my diet can be only nominal. But wellness is more than food or fitness.

I focused my thoughts on what I could do for my mind and spirit. I came up with a neat five-point list:

1. Get enough sleep.
2. Read.
3. Appreciate nature.
4. Learn to play the guitar.
5. Meditate.

I have even had little notes about what I wanted to read (anything, really, just more), what counts as appreciating nature (being outside, if possible, or looking out the window and noticing what grows and what flows), why play the guitar versus listen to music (listening to music is not out of the question, but playing music is something I have always wanted to do), and the benefits of meditation (Duh).

Silly as resolutions. These are things that I want to do, that I already do—things I do for self-care, things that still the body and calm the mind—not things that I have to “resolve” to do or find means to hold myself accountable. I deleted the list.

I realized that the situation that I see as bleak, dismal, dreary, dark is offering me a unique opportunity.

To enhance my wellness in 2021, I resolve to … be still.