I used to LOVE New Years Resolutions. The shiny promise of a fresh, untainted new year, unfettered with my current failures of the year gone by. The anticipation made me positively giddy with optimism and hope. With a clean slate, anything would was possible. THIS would be the year that I would lose those extra pounds I’d been carrying, cook at home more, cut back on my drinking, have more sex with my husband, earn more money, be a gentler, more present mom, get out of debt. In fact, there were years upon years where all of these proposed changes were vowed simultaneously. Looking back, I’m not sure whether that points to a blind eternal optimism or a bald-faced denial of what I know to be true about myself. Either way, it would be a matter of weeks, if not days, until I disappointed myself. As failures to maintain the new perfect me stacked up, one by one, again and again (because why wait for the first of the year to resolve – why not the first of the month, or every Monday, or the morning after the next big holiday, or after a particularly bad hangover) I lost faith in myself. What used to feel like pristine possibility turned into a mountain of evidence of my inability to change. The goals got smaller. I stopped writing them down or telling my husband or a friend about them. I began to think of myself as a person who was all talk and no action, who didn’t follow through or keep commitments. I became unreliable to myself. A disappointment.
It sounds extreme, right? Resolutions are natural targets of healthy skepticism, with statistics at how few actually stick. But my misery over not being able to keep them was a side effect of the actual problem – the belief that I was a person who was perpetually in need of an extreme makeover – outside and inside – and that I couldn’t be happy in my own skin until I changed, in both serious and subtle ways.
Our culture masterfully perpetuates this sickness in thinking. We women are indoctrinated early. An ideal woman is thin, pretty and small boned. She speaks softly and is bright, but not threatening. She knows how to have a good time but never gets out of control. She is diligent about eating well and ensuring her family does the same. She exercises regularly. She is patient and loving with her children and always puts them first. Her home is neat and organized but cozy and welcoming. She’s a Madonna on the street but a tiger in the bedroom. She wears sexy lingerie under her classy, put-together outfit (with accessories). She contributes, volunteers, and stays well-informed without ruffling any feathers. She works hard but makes it look effortless, without a hint of resentment.
If we don’t the fit the ideal, the consensus seems to be that at least we should be working towards it. That carrying a little extra weight isn’t a deal breaker as long as we are hitting the gym and avoiding the cookies. Same with debt. That if beauty isn’t naturally ours, we will pursue it in the marketplace through gym memberships, salon visits, diets and plastic surgery. But only if it looks natural.
Our culture tells us that everything we want is on the other side of striving. True love, peace at home, body love, amazing sex, fulfilling relationships, acceptance. It’s crazy, right? That we believe that working toward “perfection” is the key to love for self. When we finally, finally get there, we can give ourselves permission to exhale. Until then, to accept ourselves as we are is a revolutionary act — a big “fuck you” to the model for modern womanhood. Threatening, sometimes, to other women who are so invested in playing by the rules and especially to our patriarchic structure that is so very invested in women playing small. When we’re obsessed over those last five pounds or holding onto our youth at any cost, we’re not focusing on challenging the system, or working for change or saving the world. Our own sense of not being enough keeps us manageable, with our eyes on the scale or in self-help books. It’s convenient for a world run by men of privilege, no?
So, what then? What is the radical act that leverages the sleeping power of millions of women and the power that lies within YOU?
Self-acceptance.
Right now, in this moment, without changing a thing. Making peace with what is, and coming to love it a little bit. Or a lot.
Carl Rogers said, “The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.” A commitment to doing life differently if it brings you joy, freedom, better health, fulfillment, better connection, is a worthy one, if it is born of self-compassion and love. If it fuels the work you are born to do and doesn’t sabotage it. If you know that if the you of today is the best it’s ever going to get, you will still be lovable, valuable, beautiful.
True peace and joy and power comes from knowing that you are enough. Today. The great work of your life (and mine) is to have THAT be your first and most important project. The world needs you right now. It needs all of us.