Begin Again
The words that got me unstuck
Eat less crap. Exercise more. Be better. The gist of everyone’s resolutions, right? Definitely mine, for years!
Every January, hearing Auld Lang Syne, my chest would swell with willpower and I’d think, “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.” That cliche meant so much when the rest of my life yawned before me. I’d dutifully make the list, expectations high.
Late January, on my birthdays, reality always bit. I often rewrote the list because I inevitably failed to “be better” by then and birthdays offered their own fresh start.
Weeks later, failing yet again, I’d beat myself up. “Useless *#@)$%, what the F is wrong with you?” Then I’d muddle about, tail between my legs, until the next resolution-making moment when I’d puff up once more and solemnly swear to write 1000 words a day, read a book a week, stop being so disorganized, exercise everyday, eliminate sugar, eat salad, and drink more water.
Rinse and repeat.
About a decade ago, approaching my fortieth birthday, I saw the truth of this vicious cycle. My life no longer yawned before me; the first day of the rest of my life had long passed; fresh starts stopped feeling fresh. I needed a different strategy.
At that point, my kids were school-aged and I used sticker charts to encourage piano practice, getting their stuff together, feeding the cat, etc. If they flubbed, I’d say, “Try again tomorrow” and help them make small changes to meet the goal.
A lightbulb went on.
Could I parent myself like this, with grace?
Could I silence my inner drill-seargeant with her all-or-nothing, on-or-off-the-wagon rhetoric? The one who’d failed me year after year? The one who mocked: loser, loser, loser.
Could I “get a sticker” if I did okay and simply begin again when I failed? And begin again? And begin again? Never losing stickers, earning enough to build a habit?
For me, this was paradigm-shifting stuff.
No more trying to maintain streaks. No more perfection. No more outrageous expectations. Just try and try again.
I started with exercise, aiming for twenty minutes three times a week. If I surpassed that — gravy! If I failed, I’d try again, no big deal.
There were hiccups. But to give myself grace, I looked for ways to facilitate wins instead of calling myself a loser and giving up. I learned changing into a sports bra was half the battle. So I dressed in workout clothes daily, foregoing cuter preferred outfits. There was also the issue of finding time to work out when I constantly shuttled kids about, sitting and small-talking with parents at activities. I decided to incorporate exercise into these waits, optics be damned. I walked the track as they practiced soccer, ran neighborhoods during piano lessons, and sometimes did planks on sidelines. These simple changes helped me meet and exceed my goals. Sometimes, other parents joined me.
Every goal required trial and error. To increase hydration, I carried around a water bottle at first. But I kept misplacing it or forgetting it in the car. So I tried bookending my days with water — one large glass first thing, one large glass at bed time, replacing coffee and tea. This worked. Suddenly, I wasn’t guzzling so much coffee and tea, another goal, and I stopped getting UTIs, an unexpected win!
My writing habit was harder to jumpstart. I aimed to sit in front of the screen three times a week for an hour. No word-count deadlines, just showing up. But distractions abounded. I had to hide my phone, remove games, and turn off the internet, try try trying again. Even chores distracted me, so I rewarded work with laundry, cooking, and dishes. Eventually, I no longer had to force my butt in the chair. Three days became seven; one hour became nine; and I learned to ignore the chores. It paid off, too. I recently sold a novel to a publisher.
In that novel, my character has the words “begin again” tattooed on her ankle. In her case, this motto is literal; she erases her past to reinvent herself multiple times. For her, BEGIN AGAIN was an extreme directive, but in real life, it’s the kindest one.
It’s February; there’s a good chance your resolutions have veered off track. That’s okay. We’re flawed, us humans, works in progress. I still fail at meeting my goals many days. But I meet them enough, and that counts. Because I give myself space to BEGIN AGAIN.
