New Years Fuckulations.

I hate New Years.

No, I actually don’t. Let me rephrase.

I HATE THE IDEA THAT IF WE DONT BETTER OURSELVES IN THE NEW YEAR WERE FAILING. (well maybe not failing but also feeling inferior to others who set crazy high expectations and crush em, if this is you, yaaayyy you!)

For years I set unrealistic resolutions that flopped within a month, I feel I’m not alone one this boat… or should I call it the titanic. I can’t stand the pushers, the what are your goals, what are you improving, what are you changing, what are you going to do?

Not set a single fucking resolution.

I feel like a lot of people need a reminder that this time of year is hard on everyone, if you’re doing your best than you’re doing enough and be kind.

Last year I had one, I don’t know if you can call it a resolution, 12 books. 1 year. I got to 4.63. A book I started in February has stopped my book reading train and has taken a lot more deep though than I expected. I accepted that I probably wasn’t going to make 12 books when I was still reading this book 5 months later on the beach. It was the right call.

Mentally though, I’m still pissed I couldn’t read 12 books in one year.

A whole minor life crisis later, I’m calling them fuckulations. (Yes I’m still sober, 410 days to be exact, and I guess that’s the only thing I’ve stuck to)

What‘s a fuckulation you ask? Whatever the fuck you want it to be.

My list includes things like reading more than I did last year, writing more than I did last year, learning a few new things (I’ve specified one thing here, I’m really interested in canning) and cleaning up more.

My brain makes it really hard to reach goals if I’ve set something in stone (ie. 12 books) and then I beat myself up for it afterwards. So this is why fuckulations.

I hope if you’re feeling the New Year pressure like I always used to, don’t.

Make ripples, before you create waves and create waves before you start fucking with tsunamis.



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