“A new year is not the end of the book. It is one chapter in the unfolding novel of our lives, filled with the wisdom learned and hopefulness of what may be next.”
The minute the bell tolls or the ball drops in Times Square, it seems everyone feels this immense pressure to change: _________(you fill in the blank), as if the signal of the new year automatically means whoever you were or are is not good enough.
For me the new year’s beginning is never seen as an ending or a beginning since none of our lives ever falls so neatly into such a fabricated demarcation line. Instead I view each new year as the start of another chapter in this ever unfolding story of my life. Like all good novels, whatever may have occurred in previous chapters is carried into the next. Sometimes, if we are lucky, there may even be resolution at some point.
I think I started to view each year as a chapter, a result of my own resentment toward the societal pressures and, let’s face it, certain industries pushing the idea that all of us are in need of some sort of external reboot. Women, in particular, feel this immense pressure since every ad is laden with body image criticisms, as in, we all need to hit the gym, workout, eat better, and most imperatively, to lose weight. I’m sure a fair number of men also feel the need to succumb to those ads about getting six-pack ab or some such idea. While I agree with doing all of these things to maintain one’s health, the ads somehow don’t make me feel as though they are overly concerned about my cholesterol levels or blood pressure or my chronic illness.
I suppose what I find lacking or offensive about the advertising industry’s fixation on improving our bodies is just that, the emphasis on the body, not necessarily our minds or our hearts. Can you imagine a world in which we see a barrage of ads about how to be a better version of yourself from the inside out? How we should move through the world being kind to ourselves and to the greater world at large? How the focus inward is what will write the most memorable chapters of one’s life story? When our stories come to its conclusion, it’s highly unlikely we will remember the tightness of our abs or muscularity of our arms. Instead, as we face whatever is beyond this world, we will likely recall the moments when you were your best or worst self.
For me personally, after the tumult of the past two plus years and the personal tumult of the past six months after the raging resurgence of my depression, I can see how the past chapter with all of the drama propelled the narrative where I was forced to confront my own limitations. The fire alarm shrieking for me to slow down and take stock had me make dramatic changes in my professional and personal life, changes that I am still learning to adapt to and to accept. As I rifle through this most recent chapter, there is some sadness. Unlike the other sections of my narrative where that sadness may have cast a patina over many subsequent chapters, this time it was overshadowed by my own recognition of my own strength to persevere in spite of it all.