new year
...and probably the same me?
No more and no less
It’s something that I often have to stress
I’m not seeking more than you care to give
But I expect everything you have
O body of mine
I ask nothing of you but your deep breaths
In
Out
Nothing more and nothing less
Just your deep breaths
new year...and probably the same me?
To be honest, I’ve always hated new year’s resolutions. It’s like making a fake promise to yourself. Already living in a world that thrives on unrealistic expectations and then adding another one of your own volition?! Absolutely bananas. But we’ve all bought into the hype. Make a new year’s resolution to be a better you than you were last year - in some form or fashion. I, too, have been guilty of trying to live up to this ideal.
I fully believe the idea of making a new year’s resolution is my 13th reason (among many other 13th reasons). The idea that the me I was before was worse, so I need to improve. But what if that’s the problem in the first place? I probably was worse and wasn’t living up to all my potential. I was merely a body floating from place to place in an endless sea of shoulda coulda wouldas.
~~~
This is my first post on substack in a very, very, very, very (add ten more verys) long time. I was going through a very difficult rough patch, as many of you probably know if you read my last post. I was just a body floating from place to place. Occasionally, I was able to grab some life preservers. Perhaps a piece of driftwood or two would pass by and I’d grab on for a minute then become too tired to hold on anymore. My ability to cry while reading Harry Potter fanfiction came much more easily than it already does. And more than anything I felt alone. I felt isolated in my grief - yes I mean grief.
In a way, I was in a place of mourning. It took me a while to truly identify what that feeling was and why I would even be in mourning of all things. No one had died. Not a friend or family member or even a childhood pet. My beloved Angela Lansbury did pass during this time period - in my humble (and correct) opinion the greatest actress of our generation. (I am not so secretly an 85-year-old woman). But still, I had been in a place of grief and mourning long before that happened. It’s only now that I realize that I was mourning myself. I had lost me. Many different versions of myself - some that had previously existed and some that I wish had.
I mourned the me that didn’t have a chronic illness. Me that smiled more. Me that could have been in love if I wasn’t so bloody scared all the time. Me that wasn’t afraid to go to parties, bars, or gatherings for fear of how I looked. Me that wrote more. Me that believed in myself. Me that wasn’t so tired all the time. Me that wanted to explore more. Me that prayed so ardently, I felt like God was saying “girl I have other people to help.” Me that accepted that people could care about her. Me that loved rock climbing and hiking. Me that had passion. Me who trusted her body. Me who tried. Me who sang and danced. Me who could have been in a writer’s room by now if I had originally followed my passions. Me who had dreams. Me who could be open to people. Me who wasn’t so scared ALL THE F*CKING TIME. Me who… well cared about me.
There are so many versions of myself - real and imagined - that I’ve lost along the way. So many versions that are real and imagined have started to blur. Grief is our natural response to loss. While most notably expressed in reference to someone dying, there are many forms of grief. And I don’t think we, especially women, and especially Black women, allow ourselves space to grieve.
When I sat down to write this, I started thinking about all the things I’ve lost. It’s so much more than I’ve told you. Things I have left unsaid and traumatic events I try to convince myself aren’t that serious. And the crazy thing is in all of this, I’ve let my grief push people away. For LITERAL YEARS! I consider myself a burden because I come saddled with so much grief. So much so that when I’m around people I feel the need to perform. To bring smiles to those around me because they shouldn’t have to experience this too.
When I started accepting my grief and mourning, something I’m still in the process of, weirdly good things started happening. I made new friends. I got a new job (this one I still can’t believe most days). I got a car (shouts out to mom and pops for helping a girl out). My prayer life is slowly but surely coming back. I’ve started writing more again. I bought a new pair of hiking boots because I long for the woods again. I have more money in my bank account than I have had in years (don’t come begging for money - ya girl is still broke in comparison). I was able to look in the mirror and think of myself as pretty without cringing - that hasn’t happened in years. But nonetheless, things started changing.
But many things have stayed the same. My room still looks like a very tiny warzone most days. I still need to incorporate more veggies into my diet. I still take my happy pills and even added a new one. I am still pretty terrified of life most days. And as a woman nearing 30, I can barely keep a succulent alive - you literally have to TRY and kill those things. But I digress.
I know you’re probably wondering, Natalia what does this have to do with new year’s resolutions? Well, dear reader, it has everything to do with it. I think we’re all in grief or mourning in some way. We make these resolutions in hopes of recovering what we’ve lost. As if it’s been taken and we need to get it back. And when December 31st hits and we haven’t gotten it, we repeat our cycle. But what if we were just meant to be? Live in community with one another and support each other in our grief instead of hiding away - behind a resloution that may never come true. We make these resolutions so incredibly aspirational that we are constantly mourning today. This is not to say we shouldn’t work hard or go after our passions or even want something aspirational. It’s more so to say we shouldn’t find shame in the grief and mourning of what we want or even have. It’s to know that not completing a resolution is not a failure just merely something to work through and that maintenance can actually be a success.
I used to be so frightened of speaking about wanting certain things in my life, particularly my personal life. For some reason, I was the one person that didn’t deserve to live in the community I work so hard to cultivate. That my failure was resolute and there could never be success. In therapy, we call this negative self-talk. I don’t mean to brag but I am the queen of this. I don’t know, but for some reason, it felt selfish. Selfish to want good things. I know that sounds crazy (mainly because it is). But it’s so incredibly tiresome to live in fear all the time. To live in fear of failure and not simply strive to be me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still in that scary place but now I know I don’t want to be. I want to be me - the real and imagined. I want contentment.
I want:
To fall deeply in love with myself
To fall deeply in love with the divine
To fall deeply in love with a guy who loves me deeply back
To go hiking in the woods
To sit on a beach and read trashy novels
To dance at my friends’ weddings
To have a foot-popping kiss (shouts out to my Princess diary girlies)
To care of myself
To read a really good book
To watch really good tv
To go to my little hippie church in Glendale and sing very loudly
To feel truly pretty for at least one day
To eat a really good meal
To going on silly outings that lead to amazing adventures
To listen to my heart and body
To work hard
To listen more
To write poetry
To say hello to a stranger
To not be scared all the time
To one day knit a sweater
To learn to skip rocks
To go fishing with my dad again
To one day take my sister on a vacation
So much more
I know I’ve talked about this before, that I’ve lost bits of myself and not knowing who me is. And I think making a resolution to “just be the real me” isn’t the right way to go about it if I don’t really know me. I can’t make an aspirational resolution when I don’t know what that is or looks like. So I want to simply be - no more and no less.