Staring at the bulge in my cheek I realize I am brushing my teeth for the last time this year. I finish spitting into the sink and think, I brushed my teeth close to 730 times in 2020. I also read 32 books, had 200 conversations with my mother, grew and harvested 391 pounds of produce (okay, Bob helped), posted 32 essays, went for 250 walks, and did 3500 pushups.
Am I perfect? No. I could stand to lose a few tendencies, shed a few pounds, and develop better focus. I’m not always kind or patient and I still have trouble listening. But I am really good at following rules.
At 66, I am at an odd nexus in my personal development: hyper-aware of my strengths and weaknesses and yet irrationally rebellious. Therefore, I’m going easy on myself. Besides, I can already see that this year will be challenging enough. No point in making it harder.
So, here’s my list:
- Continue doing my best.
- Resist triggers.
- Care for others without neglecting myself.
- Draw a little more and eat a little less.
My 2021 intentions are no more than tweaks — vague, unruly goals with no measurable outputs. I’d like to finish the year as a thinner, slightly more independent version of my dutiful, opinionated, frugal, self-contained, and quasi-creative self. Heck, I just want to finish out the year!