Where I Was
I spent much of 2025 either numb or depressed or struggling. I am not special and I have not been alone in that state of mind. On a personal level, I’ve always had an inclination towards melancholy, but it was amplified this year by the onslaught of terrible people in power saying and doing terrible things. It has become clear to me that this is an untenable way to live. Unacceptable at my age, really. There have been so many losses already and there are more to come. Human time is finite. As the Mary Oliver poem, “The Summer Day” asks:
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
It’s a question that haunts me. Thus far, my one wild and precious life involves a lot of flailing and downright drudgery – you know, the less tasty parts of the human experience.
That’s probably not true.
I’m in the shadowy phase of the mind. Truth comes at me selectively. Like most humans, I am capable of angst and joy and love and loathing and some days, the good stuff doesn’t have a fighting chance of getting through.
Where I Am
I know I have to make some changes. I’ve known for months now, but allowed myself to be pulled along to the end of the year, where that arbitrary marker in time adds impetus. I thought procrastination was an inherent part of my operating system, but I’m learning it’s less about that than a need for time to process information. Always the tortoise, never the hare.
Of the hundreds of self-help books I’ve read over the last four decades, only a few ideas stick. The most useful thing one can do is ask the questions: Is this helpful? Is this kind?
It’s hard to face the answer that most of what one does is often not helpful or kind. I’m not looking for perfection (I am, but I talk myself out of that nonsensical thinking on the regular). I simply would like to be a little better – a little more kind and different kinds of helpful. That helpfulness would not confine itself to the ilk I’ve practiced – a maternal, caretaking busybody making sure everyone around me has what they need, planning ahead for every eventuality, and depleting myself straight into another depression. Oh, the martyrdom…
I’m coming to terms with how unhelpful I’ve been for myself and my own desires. The things that charge up my life force are things that fall to the bottom of the to-do list, which is illogical at best. I’m tired of the burnout cycle and the constant resets to the exact same list of intentions that I started with. The daily investment of time and energy needs to be parsed better, so that I’m writing and running and connecting with nature. Not all at the same time. That would be cool, though.
It is fair to say that if I were going to make any changes in my life at all, this is the time to do it. I’m in the phase of converting from a useful, visible member of society into an invisible pumpkin. I’m still physically able to function, cognitively firing on most cyclinders, and old enough to have some resources. Time is running out, though. People my age start showing up in the obituaries more frequently. Friends have lost spouses and parents over the last year. Everything changes on a dime.
Where I’m Going
It’s a funny old turn of not practicing what I preach. I tell writers in workshops, embrace the process, you have little control over the outcomes. This is, of course, an undisguised metaphor for life in general. The process, those workaday moments, are where you spend most of your time and energy. If you’re unable to embrace it, to sink into it, to feel it, to savor the little pleasures, that acceptance email or whatever success looks like to you, is not enough to redeem all of that time you flailed about before it. I should only speak for myself – it is not redemptive enough for me.
I’ve always been a planner. Plans are created, then adapted or completely destroyed in the process, but planning is critical to getting my brain in the right space. Today I wrote a very long list of things I’d like to change. And then I started to edit. What is helpful? What is kind? How do I translate that into moments or days?
I am overwhelmed by the weight of my longings.
The editing continues. I can’t do everything at once. Every change must come in time, made at the margins, slowly paced – how all change comes when it’s still a choice.
This Might Be Helpful
If you’re in that mode, I’ve got advice. Unsolicited, subjectively correct, and perhaps, dare I say, a little whimsical. Here goes nothing.
Reverse engineer your longings/goals/intentions. Start with this question: This time next year, how do I want to feel about the past year? How do I get there? What does a day, week, month, have to look like for me to have that feeling?
Next. Cut your list in half. Lower your expectations. Be kinder to yourself. What are your obstacles? Are they obstacles or excuses? Either one is fine, but honesty with oneself provides more clarity. If excuses dissuade you from even starting, it’s worth asking if you actually want what you think you want.
So many things that we think we want or think would make us happy are old stories. Stories we grew up with, stories we tell ourselves, stories that society tells us. It’s a mindblowing experience when you realize that much of what you thought you were supposed to care about, you really don’t. If you did, you might have shown up at the gym more or kept journals or organized those files.
Some people don’t want to lose weight, get organized, or write the great American novel. Some people don’t natter on about self-improvement because they’ve given themselves the best gift of all: being happy where they are with who they are. I haven’t met anyone like that, but I like to believe they exist.
I’m not one of them, because I’m a real American. Perpetually dissatisfied amidst a million choices and resources. Ooh, didn’t expect this to take a patriotic turn, did you?
On that note, I will quickly turn into a socialist. Personal goals and intentions need to include the outside world – the collective. It’s that one weird trick – whenever I’m depressed, which is every other day, I need to get out of my own head. Volunteering, taking a walk outside, calling a friend (yes, yes, I know, text first), hand writing a note to someone, going to a protest, etc. Connect the brain with something actionable and outside of yourself. The world needs every one of us with a kind inclination to follow through.
On Kindness
And lastly, a note on kindness. It’s a word, like gratitude or someone saying “I appreciate you” (which sounds to me like “bye now, we’re done”), that has been bleached of all meaning and context. What does being kind really mean? It’s not being nice. It’s not suppressing one’s own values and integrity to keep the peace. It’s not even tamping down a curse word or twenty (if it were, I am a very unkind person).
Kindness is choosing the best interpretation, giving the benefit of the doubt, and being intentional in trying to cause the least harm, possibly even making someone’s day better. It is trying to make the world a more just, gentle, and meaningful place. Actually, that’s a bunch of other words. Kindness doesn’t have to mean everything and it’s not the only thing. It’s just a good starting place.
So if you decide to change everything, one thing, or nothing in 2026, be honest, be kind, and decide what kind of days you want to have while there’s still time.
Leave a Reply