Start Today

Carla sat down with her Rachel Hollis “Start Today Journal.”  A deep sigh came from her chest.  This year had just been the worst.  She wanted to make changes in 2019, but all she did was move from one lousy job to another. She did everything she was supposed to. She weighed her pros and cons. She asked for advice from her mother, but where was she now?  Ten pounds heavier, staring down the barrel of menopause, on Wellbutrin and questioning every decision she had made.

This “Start Today Journal” was a peculiar gift. Carla asked her husband for a necklace but Amazon accidently sent this journal.  Apologizing for the snafu, Amazon sent the necklace again and told her husband to keep the mistakenly-sent journal.  Meaning well, he thought it was a pretty book and a nice stocking stuffer. Anxiety-ridden, Carla immediately felt it was some weird subliminal message about her weight, crows-feet or general place on this earth.  After she unwrapped it on Christmas day, it immediately had gone to the back of the gifts (i.e. “no man’s land”).

For those of you who don’t know, Rachel Hollis is a perky self-help guru and Carla was the polar opposite.  Rachel created the “Start Today Journal” as a written vision board.  Her intention was for her fans, followers, acolytes, groupies, Manson Family 2.0, as Carla would cynically refer to them, to get really specific about their wants, their “why” and how they were getting there.  

It was December 30.  In the midst of pulling down Christmas decorations, her son played with his new toys in his bedroom and Carla was alone in the living room.  The “Today” show had a fluff piece about the impending New Year and resolutions.  I guess someone has to keep Al Roker busy in the midst of Global Warming. 

Carla wouldn’t dare pay serious mind to making a resolution and she put the television on mute. It was just another thing to fail at through her pessimistic prism.  One should note that Carla successfully worked her way from an Assistant Teacher to a Center Director of her school.  She had a happy, healthy, beautiful son.  She had a marriage which required work, but was in way better condition than most and she was well-liked.  However, to Carla, she only saw gloom and doom.

As she leaned over to box up some ornaments, that stupid journal caught her eye. Its white marbleized cover jumped out at you in the sea of red and green.  She walked over and took it out of its plastic for the first time.  Amazon wasn’t interested in having it back.  It was essentially free.  She ran her fingers over the smooth cover and opened it.  The crack of the spine seemed to be the loudest sound in the house.  She sighed deeply, bringing up to where we are now.  

Carla began to read.  For ninety days, she would have to write down five things she was grateful for, ten dreams she was going to make happen, and the one goal she was going to achieve first.  Carla was a natural writer, so this didn’t seem like the most daunting task she’s ever had.  Just write down five things she was grateful for.  That seemed easy enough.  Ten dreams she was going to make happen.  Ok.  Maybe a little harder.  She was 41 and still wasn’t convinced she knew what she wanted to be when she grew up.  The final step was to find one goal to achieve first.  She started to think.  She had to hold herself accountable for something.  It was easy as a director of a school to hold other people accountable for things.  However, to hold herself accountable, that might be a different story.  She read on.

The pages of the prologue continued.  The purpose of this daily exercise was to find your “why” and focus your goals.  You had to be as specific as possible.  No goal was too big.  No goal was too small.  It was your “why”.  It belonged to no one.

Carla walked to her desk, carefully stepping over glass ornaments which had not been properly placed in their off-season home as of yet.  She pulled out 8 fresh colorful erasable pens, which were a part of a gift from her mother-in-law.  Don’t read too much into it.  She actually asked for the pens.

She pulled out a purple one and began to write. She would go back and forth, erasing and rewriting.  The purple ink flowed on the crisp white paper.

What are things that she was grateful for? Her son, obviously.  That was the love of her life.  Her husband.  Without him, she doesn’t have her son.  Her parents. Without them, there is no Carla. Her health.  Yes, she was 41.  Yes, she had put on some weight.  Yes, every part of her body hurt.  However, she was alive.  She could get out of bed and do things.  There were many people, some in her life that couldn’t say the same.  Finally, opportunity.  Yes. She didn’t love her job.  However, she had lived a pretty interesting life. She had a lot of opportunities.  

Had she left everything on the table?  She would argue that she had.  However, she wasn’t dead yet.  She started to write more excitedly.  For the first time in her life, Carla realized that she had time. She wasn’t going to waist anymore of it.

As she started the dreams and goals section, she wrote and erased, wrote and erased.  She wanted to be a writer.  She could be a writer.  Her “dreams” on paper became steps toward her ultimate dream, writing.  There were plans and goals.  Suddenly her job didn’t seem so much as a dead end, but more of a stepping stone.  And, regarding those ten extra pounds?  Her goal to achieve first, to be as healthy as she physically could.  Weight was number.   She had much larger dragons to slay and she needed to be the best Carla she could be.

Carla stared at the page.  It wasn’t a resolution.  It was a game plan.  She felt good.  She liked plans.  She put the book down and looked at the mess around her.  Now, if she could only game plan those Christmas decorations back up in the attic.