Don’t look back

Easing into 2024 without expectations

I haven’t written any resolutions. I haven’t written goals, intentions, plans, or even daydreams. Nothing. It’s going against my nature a little. I love writing (shock), especially plans and lists. I use a list daily to map out my day to a tee, down to timings. It gives me a sense of structure and maintains routine for me. But this New Year, I have not written any resolutions. 

The end of last year was a stressful one. I felt exhausted. Daunted by the mountains I could see ahead of me to climb in 2024, particularly on the job hunt front. I dived in headfirst. Well, on January 3rd, and it’s been a bit of a whirlwind since. The last week or so has been more successful than my entire on-off search in November and December combined. I needed it. A bit of oomph. In the lead up to Christmas I was on a slippery slope of self-criticism and not feeling good enough for anything at all. 

My writing on the whole has suffered over the past few months. I haven’t been giving Substack or Drafting anywhere near as much attention as I would like. I’m trying not to feel guilty about that. I’m so grateful for each and every like, comment, mention, note and piece of acknowledgement I’ve so kindly received during this time. I’ve clung on tightly to each shred of validation I could grasp. As I’ve said before, the irony of suddenly having all the time in the world after losing my job and getting tongue-tied isn’t lost on me. My question of confidence in other areas of my life bled into my ability to write freely without second-guessing myself. It ebbs and flows I suppose. 

Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash

With leaning into hard to the job search I feel the wind in my sails from tangible baby steps of making progress. Frosty toe-nipping walks under icy cool blue skies have galvanized me. I’ve felt so overwhelmingly hopeful I’ve cried. Hope and an unwavering belief that things will all be okay are infrequent visits. They taste strange and unfamiliar. I don’t want to scare it away. I’m trying not to push myself too hard or pile on the pressure. I haven’t written any resolutions. No unachievable and unattainable targets on my back to set myself up for failure before I’ve even found the start line. It’s working. 

This week I wrote a poem. She first arrived a few weeks ago like a nymph. A little fairy bouncing over my half-formed thoughts, still dozy as I shook off sleep. There she firmly lodged herself in my brain, nesting until more words arrived. She refused to be forgotten and this week I was able to coax out the rest of what she had to say. The poem is not very long, but she is perfectly formed and she exists. I guess in some ways I had faith all along the words would slowly return coming back to me when they were ready. I suppose now they were always ready, sitting in the wings, and it was me they had to wait for. 

I have no promises to make you, no big launch of something new or realignment on the direction Drafting will take this year. I haven’t written any resolutions. But whether I’m trudging, skipping, running or crawling I will keep showing up any way I can.