'23 and Me

This year was not what I had in mind. In many ways, it surprised and delighted me. In many ways, it was harder than I anticipated. For one, I was pregnant for most of 2023, which isn’t always fun. But, I suppose the biggest theme for me this year was “progress”.

Looking over my 2023 intentions and vision board, there aren’t many things I can cross off. We didn’t sell our house like I had wanted. I didn’t finish a lot of the projects I started. I still haven’t figured out where I want to live long-term. I’m 15 pounds off my goal weight. I still rage and have anxiety.

But, I’ve made progress. And, I’ve had way fewer anxiety attacks and rage episodes.

The biggest tangible learning for me this year was how important my relationship is with Steve. If I’m not on the same page with Steve, then it doesn’t matter how happy my kids are or how well I’m doing at work. Steve is my other half, my partner in parenthood, the solar power that our household runs on and without being on good terms with him, it’s hard for me to think about anything else. The health of my marriage permeates into every aspect of my life.

As I look ahead at the new year, there are parts I secretly dread. Bub will turn four, which means he’s that much closer to Kindergarten, that much closer to becoming a teenager. Next year, G will learn to sit up on her own, eat solids, and maybe even walk. Every year, my kids get a little older. Every year, I get a little older.

We don’t plan on traveling in 2024 or making big purchases. In fact, I’ve challenged the family to not purchase any new clothes or any new toys in the new year. It’s our “no buy” year and I’m curious to see how else we find fulfillment. 2024 may sound boring with nothing grand to look forward to, but I’m excited to see how I can find joy in the everyday, the seemingly mundane. I challenge myself to focus on what’s in front of me, to see not the lack but the luck.

35, From Survive to Thrive

Last year, when I turned 34, I remember writing that, “Instead of being just fine, I want to thrive. I want 34 to be more of what I’ve been doing, more of what I want. More prioritizing of health! More physical movement! More ways to fill my soul! And maybe, just maybe, one more kid.”

Well, the kid part certainly happened. I’m realizing now just how contradictory my statement was. The last sentence completely nullifies my first three intentions. Having a kid, for me anyway, meant eating less healthy food, less exercise, and less soul-filling activities. Being pregnant meant spending the first three months bed-ridden, the next three months eating as many pastries I could get my hands on, and the last three months of it barely able to walk on a slight incline on the treadmill. Soul-filling activities were replaced with trying to fit in as much work as possible before my maternity leave. 34, in reality, was really about surviving.

Still in the infant phase with Gertie, I’m recognizing that 35 likely means more of the same survival skills 34 required. I barely leave the house and I don’t see that changing much this year. I try to cook healthy meals and exercise, but I’m not sure how much more time I can devote to the kitchen and gym, especially when I start working again. With two kids now, I have to cram even more into the same hours. Not an easy task.

As I go to bed on my last day of my 34th year, the laundry is piled up on the bed, wrinkled and unfolded. Toys and cushions are strewn across the living room floor from Bub building an obstacle course. (He succeeded. It’s definitely an obstacle to carry Gertie from one side of the room to the other now.) I find myself burnt out from responding to my three-year-old, who constantly wants my attention, and my two-month-old, who constantly needs my attention.

Maybe it’s okay that I don’t have the energy right now to come up with different intentions for this year. Maybe it’s okay that 35 is about letting things simply be, about letting myself live life without pressure for perfection or for big moments. Maybe 35 is embracing the imperfection, relishing the mess, and noticing the tiny beautiful things.

Now Entering 2020

I love this quiet time between Christmas and New Year’s. Work pauses for two weeks. I stay up late watching all the Harry Potter movies and sleep in the next morning. Everything moves at a slower pace. I forget what day of the week it is - it’s glorious.

I also get a chance to reflect and set intentions for the new year and this year, I get to reflect and set intentions for the new decade. What a decade it’s been. Ten years ago, I was about to graduate college and decide what I wanted my first job to be. I was 21, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and so badly wanted to be with Steve. That meant moving back to Illinois, and I worked hard to find a job there. So set the course for the next decade. I moved from public relations to marketing, from marketing into tech. My relationship with Steve strengthened, not without its ups and downs, of course. Over time, we learned to better communicate, to really listen and acknowledge each other. 2010 to 2020 came with momentous occasions (buying a home, getting married, introducing a puppy into our family, going on epic vacations, achieving dream jobs). The decade also came with heartbreaking lows (losing grandmothers, making a long distance relationship work, watching our loved ones grow old). Sometimes, I get bogged down by the negatives. But as I look back, I realize that the positives have outweighed the negatives.

When it comes to New Year’s resolutions, I usually set intentions each year to eat healthy, workout and meditate every day, lose weight, get promoted. The typical, societal goals most people want. I’ve learned that a strict diet makes me binge more later, that going on a hike is more uplifting than lifting weights, that getting promoted is a temporary happiness. I want to focus less on things and numbers and more on intention and mindset.

As I enter the new decade, I want to:

• Be kinder in the way I speak to myself.

• Let go of perfection and focus on intention.

• Make plans but be okay if they sometimes break.

• Be open to originality.

• Be a good mother.

• Leave room for magic.

In many ways, I’m terrified of the next ten years. In the next decade, I’ll turn 40 (which feels very far away right now). Deep down, I’m dreading wrinkles and grays, lumps, bumps, and becoming plump. I’m anxious about growing a family, figuring out where to do it, and being a patient parent. I’m worried about losses and heartbreaks and how I’ll deal with them. I’m scared of climate change, pollution, and the state of the world.

Breathe. Just breathe. Take it day by day.

Everything will be absolutely fine.