I’m not setting goals this January. And that’s ok.
Whether we like it or not, the new year arrives with an attitude of transition, an insistence on starting anew. Some people love this. It offers a chance to set intentions, release old habits, shake off the dust, and re-emerge to themselves. Others dread it, because it comes with anxiety and pressure: to be different, to scrutinize every habit, to set goals that may only set us up for failure.
Maybe it isn’t so binary. I find myself feeling both. And instead of loudly marking the new year from one side or the other, I’m choosing to think of it as a threshold – the place or point of entering or beginning. In the space between here and there is the liminal.
I don’t think of the new year as a fresh beginning, exactly. We are still in the dark, restorative season where the light is returning, but we are not yet out of hibernation. We are between the wrongs of the past year and the new beginnings of spring. And this dark space, if we let it be, can hold deep healing and quiet transformation.
At this threshold, I find myself exhausted. After a year of pushing through body trauma, performing for others so I wouldn’t be perceived as weak or failing, producing out of sheer need for survival, I have arrived at this passage battered and worn.
I am leaning against the frame, searching for my balance. I am breathing deeply, recalibrating my system. I am not stepping back, and I am not forcing forward. I am letting myself settle. I am allowing myself to return to center.
Join me at this threshold. Join me in this restorative place, where instead of setting unattainable goals, we focus on catching our breath.