I don’t make New Year’s resolutions anymore. For me, they always came from a dark place. They identified everything that was wrong with me, real or imagined.
They stomped on my self-esteem. I was “fat” and “ugly” and needed to lose weight. I was lazy and listless without purpose. I needed to apply myself more strictly.
Resolutions fed on my insecurities and self-hate. And, of course, the moment I failed, which inevitably happened within a couple of days or weeks of the new year, the thoughts pounced even harder, and spiraled out of control.
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