Member-only story
New Year, Same Old Me
Minus the catastrophizing in a catastrophic world
Here we are, again. A new year. I recognize the arbitrary nature of the new day/new year/new you cult, my brain knows that it’s just another lap around the sun and nothing has changed. But my heart (or my gut or inner ear or something abstract) is drawn like a magnet to the fresh start, clean slate business. Just the new wall calendar gives me a thrill each morning. This year, the calendar is Dutch master florals to replace years of vintage food posters (my goodness, vintage posters are thick with racist and sexist imagery). Those lush flowers on the wall, reminding me of the dentist appointment and recycling day, brighten the spirit with much less unsavory subtext.
New calendar, new year.
I do resolutions to the extent that I ponder the old and the new and imagine improvements. Usually, it’s pitifully cliché: eat better, drink less, exercise, blah blah blah. This year, however, I’ve latched onto an idea that, if I can do it, could actually improve my whole life.
I am going to stop catastrophizing.
I will relinquish my queen-of-worst-case-scenarios crown. What can go right? will be the mantra instead of What can and often does go wrong?
