The Pointless Art of Reinventing Myself

I make a lot of New Years’ Resolutions. Like, a lot. I write them out in a pink bullet journal in neat, color-coded order, and then close the journal and—like so many of us—never look at it again. All the while I loudly declare that New Years’ Resolutions are useless and a waste of time. After all, what really is the difference between December 31st and January 1st? Nothing. Nothing at all, except the undying hope that we can make things better.

As a self-growth and self-improvement junkie, I spend a lot of time setting goals, creating habits, and writing to-do lists. Every once in a while I’m seized by the sudden urge to scrap all my previous work and entirely reinvent myself and my future. Sometimes those “once in a whiles” happen once a week.

Inevitably, these short bursts of motivation and productivity fail. Within a day or two my discipline begins to lag, I fall back into old habits, spend time endlessly scrolling on my phone instead of working towards my goals. The perceived failure leads to discouragement, annoyance at my inability to change myself and my life, resulting in a renewed burst of angry activity in which I bring out the bullet journal, write new lists, and set entirely different goals. I’m stuck in a perpetual loop, running in endless circles on a metaphorical hamster wheel.

Do I regret being like this? Do I wish I didn’t care so much about goals, success, achievements, and climbing ever upward? Not really. Okay, okay, maybe I take it to an extreme. There’s a point at which self-growth crosses the line into unhealthy obsession, which only leads to burnout. Over years of getting to know my very goal-driven self, I’ve learned to care a little less. To take days off. To not beat myself up when things don’t go according to plan. To listen to my mind and body and know when to take a break.

But ultimately, the endless desire to do a 180°and become a different person overnight has been a good thing. Think back to the metaphorical hamster wheel. A literal hamster wheel, of course, stays in one place. It stays stagnant, which makes it the perfect comparison for a life perpetually moving, but not going anywhere. My life? It goes upward, ever so slightly, ever so slowly. The circles of my constant activity are overlapping, building a ladder going up.

This is because some of the changes I try to make, or the habits I try to implement, end up sticking. Some things work out. Not nearly all of them, but out of the many things I try, a small handful end up becoming part of my life, and drastically improving my life for the better. For instance, like so many, I jumped on the workout grind of 2020. Quarantine was filled with at home workouts, hours on my yoga mat, and buckets of sweat. I genuinely loved it. But eventually, most of it fell away. Real life took over and I couldn’t spend every day doing burpees or holding planks. But one small thing, a habit I picked up along the way, stuck. I began doing an ab workout every single morning before breakfast. I rolled out of bed in the morning, hit my yoga mat, and did 15 minutes of abs before I was even fully awake. It became natural and automatic. I’ve continued that habit. I still roll out of bed every morning and do my 15 minutes of abs. (Almost every morning, that is, I have my off days. I’m not a machine.) And it makes me feel stronger and more badass than ever in my life.

All this to say…what? That I’ve picked up a few good habits throughout years of failed attempts? That this is success? Well, maybe it is success, but it’s not the reason I continue to pick up my bullet journal. I pick up my bullet journal because I feel hopeful. Because every time, I believe that I can achieve the life of my dreams. Because every time, I see worth in trying, and I care enough to try again. This is a gift. To have the drive, the trust, and the ability to continue working is something for which I am so grateful.

Perhaps, however clichéd it may sound, the journey really is more important than the end result. Perhaps the color-coded to-do lists are more important than how many items are actually checked off. Those color-coded to-do lists? They symbolize hope. They symbolize a belief in the process and a belief in a better life to come. The goal is not to reinvent myself. The goal is to believe that there is always something better for me to be. There is value in the work. There is a purpose in the pink bullet journal. It’s about time to get it out again.