No Resolutions

I didn’t have any resolutions polished and ready to go in the beginning of 2021. In fact, I distinctly remember sometime between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, sitting drunk on my couch with my fiancée, slurring something along the lines of “It doesn’t even matter, right? The world’s, like, fucked anyway - I’m gonna be easy on myself next year.” We had planned on marrying in 2020, and buying a house, and I was due for a raise. See, I’d had a stable job that I loved, which went under as soon as Covid19 hit. We lost our savings before we could even blink, and everything continued going south from that point on. So, I’d be nicer to myself next year; more forgiving of my shortcomings.

That turned out to be a lie. January came like a cold front, settling into the floorboards, and working its way down to my bones before I could even finish processing June of 2020. My online business was in recovery from Christmastime, dishes were piled in the sink, our rent was just barely paid in time, and I was sitting on my bed, folding laundry while my thoughts turned.

“You’re not doing enough. You’re not doing enough, and it’s showing. You’re not doing enough, and everyone can see the way it’s killing you. It’s killing you. It’s killing you-”

I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and it was already dark outside by the time I noticed. We didn’t have much in the fridge, but I was able to scrape a barren salad together, and that felt good. I ate slowly, wondering what I had to do to feel like a human again after 2020. I took a deep breath and brought my now-empty bowl to the sink, then slumped into a chair at the kitchen counter. I knew I didn’t want to continue on the same as last year. Nothing had materially changed, not really, aside from a “1” where a “0” used to be, but I didn’t want to keep this up any longer - this mindless floating from one day to the next, weeks blurring together into months, and then suddenly a year is gone, just like that.

I went to the bathroom and took a multivitamin. Chased it with a hearty glug of water. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought “maybe this is all it means”. I picked some clothes up off the floor, and threw them into the basket by the bathroom door, then made my way to the living room, where I threw away fast food containers and empty chip bags. I set the trash outside. Maybe this is all it takes - little things every day, to be a little better. Feel a little better.

I enlisted my fiancée’s help in cleaning the apartment, and running some errands. Reminded her to take her meds, brought her a glass of water. She took care of the dishes while I cleaned up my home office. I took a shower and went to bed.

The next morning, I left the bedroom and entered into a living space I’d forgotten I’d cleaned the night before. I felt a wave of relief upon seeing the kitchen sink empty, the coffee table tidied, the stench of trash bags gone. I made myself some coffee and waffles and checked the website for my business. I’d gotten a few sales over night. I smiled.

We decided to keep up the effort - hold each other accountable. We started saving again, as much as we could with what little we had. We go on long walks, toss a ball back and forth, clean together, and it’s easier everyday. Except for the days when it’s hard, but those are okay too, now. Little things every day. They add up.

Sure, sometimes the laundry still sits in a sad, lumpy pile for a few days too long, but it’s all a process, and you have to be committed to it, or else it doesn’t work. I didn’t make any specific rules or standards for us to follow. All I said was, “We’re gonna try our best every day, whatever that looks like.” And that was enough. We do what we can, and forgive what we can’t. I’ve been more gentle with myself, more understanding of my needs and limitations. It’s not always easy - and I think maybe it’s not supposed to be. And maybe that’s all part of it, too.