You're not a puzzle that needs solving
A new year doesn't have to mean a new you
In the heart of New York City, the Ball drops. Confetti springs into the air. Couples kiss. Masses cheer, and TV stations broadcast the change for all to hear.
Conversations pop up about the new year. What are your resolutions? Are you planning any vacations? Do you want to go bungee jump off the highest bridge? Did you stay up all night? Did you celebrate with your family or friends?
None of these are inappropriate questions, and neither is celebrating the new year. But, sometimes, the algorithm stalks us. Floods our screens with tutorials on getting our lives on track, increasing productivity, and finding solace in loneliness. These can stick with us long after we crawled out of our rut, stopped living under a rock, and became a Real Boy.
That’s where the addiction can start.
During my college years, I had a stint where I took a high dose of Prednisone. I took them until insurance approved my new Crohn’s meds. Yet, I noticed a terrifying pattern in my newfound energy (thanks, steroids). I couldn’t stop doing cleaning, organizing, declutter, or doing.
It started with cleaning my room, then expanded to decluttering my many possessions. When night fell, I didn’t want to stop. With my accomplishments and surplus energy, I was ready for more. It was wobbly, anxious, and volatile energy, but was energy.
This mentality continued after I settled alone into my new mobile home. I purged, helped my parents move, moved, started my new job, bought my first car, and adopted two cats. Once it was over, life slowed down, and I found a new rhythm.
I kept a proper to-do list with few tasks falling through the cracks and even started regularly exercising. My mood and strength were on the rise. Despite this, night after night I stared across my living room with cats on my lap. I must have missed something; surely there was more.
I indulged myself in the world of productivity to feed my yearning. I learned to bullet journal, something I still do and find helpful. But I also learned that I could improve everything. Everything needed to be improved. Best of all, I didn’t need to start on the New Year.
I worked through every nook & cranny in my house asking questions. Do I need this item? How often should I clean my windows? Which day was convenient for cleaning? What’s the best possible space for my items for ease of use?
Then I went through my work tasks with a fine-tooth comb. I re-structured my email (which I don’t regret), created calendars for my work load, automated my to-do list, and even tried to look into automating my repetitive work.
While I gained better habits, it was how I did it that was unsustainable. I overwhelmed myself by attempting to make multiple changes at once. But, worst of all, I couldn’t see anything beyond my enhancements.
It was my fault I wasn’t a good enough person.
Initially, I set out on this journey to better myself, but ended up fixating on resolving every possible issue. I treated myself like a puzzle that needed solving, blaming myself for every setback and imperfection.
I was no longer improving myself and my situation. I began ignoring my genuine needs. Instead of pouring into relationships, I locked others out. The loneliness and confusion continued, sending me into a spiral.
New Year’s resolutions can push us in the right direction; they can also pile on guilt. Resolutions can steal joy and add evidence that you’re a loser. They can give you good habits and create an addition to perfection.
This year, remember that you are not a puzzle to solve. You’re not a problem looking for a solution. You’re an imperfect human being with flaws and passions and gray areas.
No matter if you make resolutions or decide against them, remember that you’re okay the way you are. You’re allowed to change yourself and your actions.
But you don’t have to.
Wishing you a happy New Year!
Ada
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