There were 30 people at my gym class this morning.  Heck, there were men at my gym class this morning.  Most days there’s less than half that and never a jock strap in sight (though probably it shouldn’t be in sight anyway.  Eww.). Clearly, resolution time is here again. 

I resolve every year not to make any resolutions.  Then, with a predictability matched only by the rise and fall of every 20-something Hollywood starlet, I start to equivocate.  Apparently, there’s nothing I enjoy more than arguing with myself over a nice cup of coffee.

“I’m definitely not making any resolutions this year; they never work, it’s all forgotten in a month, it’s pointless.  But… maybe I can just set some simple goals.  That’s not the same thing at all.  And probably, since I’ll have goals, I need some deadlines.  That’s just smart business tactics.”

And so it begins.  Every year, I go from simple “goals” like calling old friends once a month to topics decidedly more resolved.  As in, how I will lose weight, or get in shape, or eat a more healthy diet, or control my spending.  And every year, I never. follow. through.  NEVER.  I read somewhere that in order to establish a new habit you have to repeat it for 21 days.  So that’s usually how long my resolutions last- 21 days.  If I’m not feelin’ the love by then, it must not be destiny, right?

This year, instead of trying to resist the clean slate temptation of a completely un-screwed-up new year, I’m going to embrace it.   Let’s be honest- 2008 kind sucked for me, people.  That alone is inspiration enough to make some changes.  Here’s my biggie- I will not spend any time in the psychiatric ward in 2009.  BAM!  Awesome resolution, lots of staying power.  The completely not fun memories from those times are really effective motivators, too.  Terrible food.  Plastic beds.  Instant coffee.  Among other things.

In all seriousness, though (not that avoiding the mental hospital is oh-so-silly), my hopes for this new year have no deadlines or strict action plans.  To put it plainly, I want only to be normal.  Tall order, I know, but… I don’t mean Stepford Wife perfection.  I just mean… within reasonable bounds of perception, mostly my own.  I don’t want to question my emotional stability if I lose my temper with the girls or get misty over Grey’s Anatomy.  When, from time to time, I have one of Those Days and take myself to bed the second Kurt’s car pulls into the garage, I’d be thrilled if everyone thought, “Damn, that girl has a wicked case of PMS,” instead of wondering if my meds are working.  Second-guessing my responses to every situation, second-guessing the thoughts in my head, fearing interactions that might be too stressful- that’s all 2008.  2009 will be about trust.  Finally accepting that, perhaps, it doesn’t mean something bad will happen if I am feeling a little crazy- that would be the achievement of normal for me.

So that’s my resolution, one teensy little thing.  Oh, and to remember to eat breakfast every day.  That’s all.  Really.  Pay no attention to the long list behind the curtain.

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