Somehow, I managed to write exactly one episode of Thirty Life Crisis last year. One. It’s pitiful, but I’m not going to let it embarrass me. The truth is, when you’re life is in actual crisis, you don’t have the time or energy for a blog. This one in particular has been a strange journey. It began as a reflection on the many musings between me and my friend Kate. We talked at length about how different life felt now that we were in our thirties. Now, I’m halfway through, and I’ve lost touch with a truly amazing person.

I have lost touch with a lot of people in the last three years. I feel like 2021 and 2022 were the second and third installments in the horror story known as 2020. I have lost touch with a lot of good habits too. In the past three years, I haven’t read as much as I wanted to, written as much as I needed to, eaten like I should, exercised like I should…my list of failures is immense.

New Years Day is supposed to be a magic reset button where I get my life in order and achieve every goal I set. Either the magic is dead, or I’m doing something wrong. I am going to go with the latter. The only day that matters is today, and the small steps I take towards big dreams. I choose to stay hopeful and optimistic that this New Year is going to be different. I only one day under my belt so far, and I don’t want to jinx it, but so far so good!

The best parts of me were never the lists, goals, and progress pictures anyway. The best part of me has always been the hopeful optimism that keeps me trying again, even after I fail. It is the resilience to stand up, dust myself off, and keep going. That’s what I’m going to focus on this year. I don’t need to change anything about myself; I just need to hold on to the parts of me that allow my truth and authenticity to shine.

New Year, same me. And that’s not a bad thing.