Of broken resolutions and hope in a jar

Every year I make a list of projects that I want to do, changes I want to make – all in the pursuit of being atleast half the decent human-being I could be.

A month later… ok a week later, I am filled with regret.

My valiant effort is turned into a sham in no time. I am left feeling like a sad excuse for a person, who can barely make it through a day at the gym. How can I even navigate adulthood and its many socially awkward situations?

It’s also a time when I have to have a mandatory session with my close friends where I whine about everything that’s wrong with my life. Since, I so desperately miss the few precious moments I get with people I genuinely love and miss so much now because I am in a different city, this blog post shall serve the purpose partially.

I am not happy with where my career is headed because after almost a decade of working, I am diving into a pool of self-doubt and if I am even good at anything. I maybe good at what I do, but I am a nightmare at interviews. Let’s just say forced conversations intended to impress are not my forte. Yet, a week later all this will disappear as bill will need paying, stuff will need buying and materialistic joys will seem legit. So, I will shut up and go back to another year of working, trying to make something of myself in the rat-race.

Follow your heart can be a really terrible advice here. Following your heart leaves one very tortured and also depending on one’s circumstances – very broke. See, the luxury of following one’s passion and heart requires a lot of courage, a support system of people who shower you with unconditional love, plenty of back-up funding or savings to last you as you dabble in various side-gigs to find your one true purpose.

For now, like many other millennials, I am without a sense of purpose.

There are grand notions of changing the world, spreading love and single-handedly bringing about world peace. But, then laundry needs to be done, dishes need to be cleaned and the mundane kicks in.

I romanticize my past and have grand plans for life I had. What I don’t have is a plan to survive my everyday.

I laugh less now. I think the pessimism of things around me have taken a toll. I am struggling in every part of my life, in some way or the other. I’m not afraid though. My social media constructed, perfectly curated life isn’t me. And that’s ok.

Life isn’t perfect. People aren’t perfect.

We are work in progress here.

Nonetheless, given my obsession for lists and notes – I want to put together a list which would hopefully make my year less regrettable.

Notes to self:

  1. Write often. You become a crazy, obsessive drama queen when you don’t write. It doesn’t have to be good or great. It just needs to be out there.
  2. Eat healthy. You are trying to use food as an excuse to feel better. Stop eating with your emotions and start eating healthy.
  3. Stay fit. I know you hate the gym. Pain and aching muscles are not your idea of fun. But, stay at it. Your body will thank you for it later.
  4. Take that morning half hour to just breathe and reflect.
  5. There’s no such thing as no time to read. Read as often as you can. Books are the best forms of teleportation and are beyond magic.
  6. A new skill, a new thing. Take time for it.

I would like to acknowledge the fact that I am a glorious mess. But, I am a lovely mess. An absolute unique combination of accumulated flaws and imperfections, ranting on about how resolutions lead to regrets. Maybe, just maybe I will find some courage this year, find some love and support, find some purpose, new music, new books, maybe even a new me.

I may not have it all. What I have though, is a precious thing called HOPE bottled up to be used wisely and generously.

Bring it on 2017. It’s ON!

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