resolve

As anyone forced, against their will, to write resolutions with me on a cold Paddington station in 2001 in brand new notebooks I had bought expressly for the purpose will testify, I bloody love a resolution. (Sorry Betts.)

I shouldn't.

If there's one thing I failed to learn in therapy it's that beating yourself with a big ol' stick of guilt and self recrimination is not only bad for your mental health, it is also counterproductive. (OK, that's sort of two things. I lied.)

Encouragement reaps better results than criticism.

Psychology 101. Bullying people makes them defensive, and therefore unreceptive. The carrot (cake) works better than the stick. Fact.

So it follows that if you criticise and bully yourself the same is true. It would be much more productive to give yourself a lovely pat on the back instead.

I know this, you know this, I'm pretty sure most of the muppets* on Sesame Street banged on about it fairly constantly throughout my childhood.

I know it...but when it comes to me, I don't actually believe it.

But resolutions can be positive, I hear you cry...
a fresh new page; the promise of change; the chance to erase and reinvent.

Meh.

Bring on the stick.

My resolutions are essentially the same every year...and when this happens they sort of become a yearly reminder of something you've failed at. A list of things you still don't like about yourself.

So I should stop...

But I bloody love a resolution.

Last year, in a bid to change things I 'resolved' (see what I did there?) to try and write new 'plus' rather than 'minus' resolutions. Things to do, rather than things to stop doing.

First I had a long fight with a hovering biro about not writing 'lose weight' or 'exercise more' or some such. Then I spent some time beating myself up in a right old guilty feminist way about all that broo ha ha...** Then I got cross with myself for not allowing myself to express what are my genuine if repulsive feelings...then I had to make a cup of tea to get over it...

Eventually I made a list of simple things to prioritise, reading more, writing more, listening to new music, etc...and it went quite well.

This year I've added a new one...but it needs its own post, or you will all lose the will to live.

Happy 2017.


*I mean the actual furry puppet muppets. I would NEVER throw shade over Mr Hooper, Bob, Maria, Luis et al.  They are the best. Obviously.

**For certainly hatred of a beautifully functioning body is largely a result of the influence of that evil bastard Patrick Arcky and his empire of misogynistic photoshopping, body shaming, advertising and media minions...

The hare beating in the new year tile was made by our friend Will.