You probably don’t remember me saying that I don’t typically make New Year’s resolutions, but it’s true. I make maybe one a decade, and then I usually forget all about it.
But what the heck. I feel like making one this year, however futile it may be. This year I resolve to be less hard on myself.
I’m not the person I used to be. My physical limitations prevent me from doing the things I’d like to do – the things I used to do.
I’m no longer as organized, as squared away, as I used to be. And while I still aspire to continue downsizing until I have less stuff to wrangle, I also need to find a way to be okay with the clutter in the meantime.
My memory is shot to hell. I just don’t remember things. It’s alarming and discouraging, but I’m finding ways to deal with it. I try to do things as soon as I think of them, so I don’t forget. This means that I don’t necessarily do things in an orderly fashion any more. It’s more like I see something and remember what I meant to do, so I do it right then. Then I sit down and rest. Next time I get up and move around the house, I see something else I meant to do, and then I do that. No coherence, but at least I’m still getting things done.
I also don’t batch as many errands as I used to do. I just don’t have the executive function or the energy to deal with a long list of things to accomplish in town. So I do one or two as soon as I figure out what I need, and resign myself to the fact that I’ll have to do fewer things at a time and ultimately make more trips in order to get everything done.
One of things I did in the past year or two to help with my forgetfulness was to get a password manager. I resisted getting one for a long time, but I’m finding it very helpful and I’m glad I did it. [Although I got a family account, Spousal Unit *hates* using it. That’s fine. They don’t have to use it for their stuff, but at least they know where to go look for our joint passwords if it’s an account I set up and I can’t remember the password.]
I also created a morning checklist and an evening checklist to help me remember to take my meds and do health and hygiene tasks, but I need to get into a daily practice of using them. I also should probably get a whiteboard calendar and start logging doctors appointments and such where Spousal Unit and I can both see them and keep track of them.
I hate chaos. I hate disorder. I hate clutter and untidiness. And I intend to keep working to bring order to the chaos that is our small house still overflowing with items from our larger previous house.
But, in the meantime, and from now on, I resolve to be less hard on myself about it. I am no longer the person I used to be. I cannot continue to hold myself to standards I can no longer meet. It accomplishes nothing aside from making me feel bad about myself and my situation.
I can continue to learn, to discover new hacks and accommodations that help me deal with my limitations. I can implement these techniques and use these aids. But I can also give myself grace. I can accept that I am no longer the person I was. Accept that I can no longer do the things I used to do, in the ways I used to do them.
People like to argue that anything is possible if you just believe and try hard enough. “You just need the right attitude!,” these people like to say. In the chronic illness/disability community, this is known as “toxic positivity.” The truth is, you can’t necessarily change reality through hope and hard work. Especially if you’re from a marginalized community.
I can’t become healthy and abled from wishing it so – I know, I’ve tried for years. I can’t become healthy and abled through eating right, exercising, or taking the right supplements – I’ve tried that for years too. But the toxic positivity people are right about one thing – I *can* control my attitude.
So I choose to give myself grace for my circumstances and my state of being.
Rather than chasing a pipe dream of restored health, I choose to pursue adaptation to my current health. I choose to pursue acceptance, to seek a zen-like acceptance of my reality. I choose to walk the path of the Serenity Prayer: To accept the things I cannot change, to change the things I can, and to be able to tell the difference.
That is my resolution for 2023.
I’m a big fan of this resolution. I’d wager it should be a lifetime resolution for folks like us.
It took me almost 25 years to start to understand this idea that I couldn’t just force myself to be healthy again, I couldn’t undo my chronic illness induced limitations, and that insisting on trying to do so was infinitely more harmful than healthy. I literally couldn’t understand why people would advise me to be kinder to myself to give myself grace, until now.
May 2023 be full of kindness.
It’s a lifetime’s work, for sure, both because acceptance of one’s (difficult) circumstances is a constant process and because being able to discern between “what to accept” and “what to change” often requires great wisdom.
And, yeah, being raised without gentleness or compassion makes it very difficult to be able to give them to oneself. May we each become better at that.
An excellent resolution for 2023, or any year! I think I will adopt it, too, if you don’t mind!
Sorry for the delayed response – I haven’t been functioning very well lately.
Yes, you are more than welcome to adopt it for yourself!