Well, where do I start?

My aim for this year was to put an end to the long and tiresome tradition of getting so shit faced on New Year’s Eve that I am unable to begin a new year filled with positivity and promise. Instead, I lie in bed, or on the sofa, feeling sorry for myself whilst nursing a hangover. But not this year, oh no, my very first resolution was to nip that in the bud and have a New Year’s Eve which meant that I could get up and go. A New Year’s Eve that meant I could be one of the smug people. You know, the healthy, self-lovey, sensible activewear wearing, reusable coffee cup holding, I just went for a run/yoga/100 mile bike ride  type of people. This year, I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to manifest and glow and thrive and succumb to the construct of time and believe that the first of January is the start of something new.

But alas, here I am, it’s January first and I look nothing like the glowy people. In fact, I am rather the opposite of ‘glowy’. My hair is on top of my head, my face is covered in unwanted spots, my head is pounding, my stomach is churning and it feels a little like my insides may fall out of my bottom. I am wearing tracksuit bottoms with Dr Martens and I am not wearing a bra, to be honest I might not be wearing pants, but I daren’t look. I did not make it to a manifestation and meditation workshop, I did not do a fun park run and I definitely have not started the year as I mean to go on. Therefore, it would be easy to sit and self criticise. To fester not only in my hangover but in disappointment with myself and my inability to know what’s best for me. GG DON’T BE HASTY. Slow down, let’s stop and think about this.

The first resolution that I thought of this year was to try not to sweat the small stuff. To save the stressing and the worrying for moments of necessity. Being angry at myself for having too much fun and being irresponsible, is an unnecessary self criticism. I didn’t hurt anyone by drinking a litre of espresso martini and throwing up in the toilet with my dress hoisted up above my waist. My dignity may have been hurt a little, but she’ll recover, she’s strong. I’ve lost yet another day of my life to a hangover and although it is far from ideal, it is not the end of the world. My 2020 will not be dented, ruined, unsalvageable, on the contrary, the only way is up.

We’re all learning and growing, making and breaking resolutions, manifesting for something and then changing our minds. One minute I never want to drink again and the next don’t bother with the glass, give me the bottle! I saw in the New Year with friends that I love, with people that keep me grounded and make me feel like home. I danced and I drank, I laughed and I was very very sick and that’s ok! I didn’t wake up this morning and bounce out of bed slipping slowly into my Lulu lemon leggings before getting Tracey on the blower and organising a quick oat-latte fuelled catch-up before Ashtanga. No, instead my great triumph was realising that in my drunken state, I had remembered to take my tampon out. Every day is different. New challenges and new accomplishments, not getting toxic shock is a pretty good one I think.

So, whether you felt glowy or not, reflect on last night and the year just passed with kindness and understanding. Learn from mistakes, grow from challenges and drink more water before bed! The start of the year does mark a change, but there is no real start line and there most definitely isn’t a finish line. Stay in your lane and compare yourself to no one, apart from your past self, You’re doing great and this year will be filled with peaks and troughs just like all of the others.

Happy New Year kids, let’s hope it’s a good one.

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