I don’t make New Year resolutions. Instead, around my birthday in October I reflect on my life and think about the things I would like to see different. How I would like to grow and change as well as how I would like to rearrange the furniture or replace our dinner plates. All pieces of me are opened up and looked at, examined, given value and then I decide if I’m ready for the shifts needed to make the changes I want. Sometimes, like in the case of new dinner plates, it’s easy. Other times, especially when it comes to my personal growth, it can be a lot more challenging.
I didn’t do that reflection this year. I turned forty and instead of thinking about what I wanted to change I basked in the glow of what I love about my life. It felt good to have this shift. I had an amazing party, surrounded by friends and all our children and honestly, I think it was the best birthday party I’ve had to date. I felt whole. I felt loved. I felt my community and my family. There was nothing missing, nothing in the days and weeks surrounding my birthday that I wanted to change. Life was just as it needed to be in those moments.
The holidays came and went, with much activity on my part and the my family’s. Revelations were made about past traumas. I found comfort and safety in my little family. I had some growth. Life was good for the most part, although I was finding little things I wanted to change or shift, but I wasn’t sure how to make the shifts that I wanted to see. These shifts I wanted to make revolved around a sense of fear, a sense of feeling incomplete and empty, and a sense of feeling unsafe in the world in general.
January came and a few friends posted and talked about their new year’s resolutions of purging and cleansing and clearing. Getting rid of stuff. Not feeling overwhelmed by stuff or schedules or life. Letting their bodies and minds and souls heal a bit more. I was inspired. I needed to clear. I needed to cleanse.