Resolution

So, here we are, at the end of 2020...at last - what a year it’s been! 

So here we are, finally, celebrating..what exactly? 

The end of a horrible year, and bliddy good riddance too. Or maybe we’re celebrating the new year coming in on the stroke of midnight? 

I’ve always thought it’s kind of funny how we make such a fuss about the stroke of midnight on NewYear’s Eve. You’d think it does something different. The stroke of midnight ushers in a new day every day of the year, regardless of the date. Always has done, and always will do. There’s a comforting sense of continuity in that.

So here I am, glass at the ready. The kids, surly at being kept indoors even over the holidays, are in their respective rooms. To be fair, when I was their age, I was the same... l’d much rather be out with my mates than at home with the oldies. And after a term at school, with the uncertainty of constant change, it must feel very unfair that they’ve been asked to stay at home, during the holidays. 

The new term is only four days away. Which reminds me, I need to un-decorate the house before then...because of course, while everyone lends a hand with the decorating, no one can be bothered by the time Christmas is over. 

My spirit of Christmas, pared down to one measly day by Boris’ newest measures, has been flagging, and my mood tonight is more ponderous whisky than frivolous prosecco 

Yes, I know, I know, there’s a pandemic around, and yes, I know it seems to be becoming more serious, as more young people are getting seriously ill with it. I’m very mindful of the need to sanitise my hands, and keep my distance, as I’ve been for the past ten months. 

But hey, when you’re a teenager, you pretty much think you’re invincible, that no virus will hold you down.

Ah well, it is what it is. History repeats itself, blah blah. Nothing really new in the history of humankind. 

The circle of life - boring, but also oddly reassuring. Until something turns your life upside down, that is.

Like this virus has done this past year. It has changed how we shop, how we work, how we socialise, how we are. The other day I was checking my bag before going out - besides the usual keys, wallet, phone I now checked for mask and hand sanitiser. Our life is no longer the same. And if tonight’s lockdown is anything go by, it won’t be the same anytime soon.. or ever again.

In place of all the usual big celebrations in town, this year we have a number of New Year’s Eve shows on the telly. Well-curated skits and clips, along with hosts laughing too loud, or making somewhat risque jokes. 

I watch, but only half-watch, if that makes any sense. With half an hour to go to the new year, this is the time I’m usually reflecting on my new year resolutions.

Depressingly, they’re almost the same every year. Eat more healthily, get my bum off the sofa more often, be more productive, be more positive. 

More, more, more... always more. Never enough. Maybe that’s why they are always the same.

I think of a quote from the diary of Anais Nin - ‘I made no resolutions for the New Year. The habit of making plans, of criticising, sanctioning and moulding my life, is too much of a daily event for me.’

There’s a whole lot of truth in there. New Year resolutions always somehow seem to centre on something we’re not doing right, on what we can do better. On how we’ve failed somehow. Ultimately, that’s the bottom line.

This is not the first time I’ve wondered about the whole purpose of New Year resolutions..as I grow older, they increasingly seem to have one express purpose - making you aware of how flawed your life is, how far you’ve strayed from what is deemed ideal. 

Just as the Christmas period is finishing, too. Right in time for things like Dry January.. honestly, who the hell thought of that one? Like January is not dark and dank and depressing enough.

A constant, driving message that somehow you, or your life, needs fixing. That you’re not doing good enough. And then we wonder why mental health issues are on the increase. Why do we do this to ourselves? Why this constant critiquing of our lifestyle, our health, our appearance, our output, our figure? How is this meant to help us? 

I know, I know; we need to stretch in order to grow, get out of our comfort zone and discover something new. Or so they tell us. And then we feel guilty when that stretching proves to be a stretch too far.

Haha. I was born and raised a Catholic, so I know a thing or two about guilt.. No one does guilt better than Catholicism, at least the Catholicism I was raised with. Do things for others. Don’t complain. Grin and bear it, whatever it is. Ugh..

The countdown has started on the big clock in the right hand corner of the telly screen. Ten more minutes to go. Time to wake my gently snoring husband so he can crack open the bubbly on the stroke of midnight. 

And then it hits me.. this year, after all we’ve been through, I can make a resolution I’ve never made before in my life. 

After a year of constantly worrying about stuff, I vow to absolve myself of the responsibility of others. I am doing all I can to keep everything running smoothly. This virus has catapulted us into a whole new world where even that is an effort.

I am helping with home learning, sometimes with stuff that I have long forgotten. 

I am working from home, often in my pjs.

I am keeping everyone fed, everyone warm, everyone clothed. 

I am making sure we all get out of the house at least once every other day to get some exercise and fresh air. 

This is a weird situation, ‘an unprecedented time’, to quote the boffins on the telly. And yes, being stuck indoors a lot of the time does make for frayed tempers, and plenty of irritability all round. 

And all the change and uncertainty, and restrictions are bound to have an effect on everyone’s mental health, mine included. 

I cannot be responsible for people’s feelings, not feelings related to this. This is bigger than me, bigger than any of us, and I cannot be responsible for fixing it, or making it better. 

I can only be responsible for those things I can control, not those things I have no control over. 

I vow to look after myself this year, to do something for myself. Get that qualification I’d put in hold when my son needed to be homeschooled. Forget the chores. Walk on the beach. Write. Go out with my camera at the crack of dawn, to photograph the spectacular coastal sunrise. Do things that are good for my soul. 

In the past, I would never have even thought of putting these thoughts into words. Thoughts like this would have been shoved away in a fit of guilt. Or when confronted with the pragmatism of everyday life, all the pulls in various directions, they would have simply remained thoughts, glimmering at the edge of my consciousness. One of those things you wish to do, you need to do; but which you never get round to doing, because there is always something more important. 

I sigh, good old Catholic guilt, and the misogyny that associates caring and nurturing duties with women have a hell of a lot to answer for.

As a mother, I have always felt responsible for my family. I knew I was expected to forget about myself. I was raised on a maternal refrain of “Look at all the sacrifices I do for you, to give you an education”...even though no one ever asked me if I wanted that education. But that’s a whole other story, one I’m not willing to open up right now. Too much unfinished business there.

When I had my first child, I was told in not so many words, by well-meaning relatives that anything I wanted to do had to come second to my kids from now on. Even as I rebelled against the idea, I still went ahead and put myself on the back burner. For years and years.

Well, now it’s time to think of me. As the saying goes, you cannot pour from an empty cup. This year has taken a lot out of all of us. It has taken a lot out of me, trying to keep everyone on an even keel in the middle of a pandemic that upended the world, a pandemic that sociologists have likened to WW2 in its effects.

I need to think of myself. I need to replenish my cup. And if that makes me selfish by some standard or other, so be it. 

On the stroke of midnight that Is what I will raise my glass to.