One would expect the new year to be a new beginning, an opportunity to let the old mess go and to start afresh, with a clear vision of what’s ahead. Or at least that’s what I’ve expected entering 2015. Somehow I saw it as a way out, as a lifeboat in the middle of an unsteady, stormy ocean. It’s almost as if I was telling myself that, as soon as the new year starts, everything will be fine. As clichè as that may sound and as childish as I may be, I had actually hoped that every broken relationship, every unfinished work and every scattered feeling of mine would fix themselves up, just because it’s Christmas.
You see, things in my life have been very chaotic lately, and I’ve been refusing to believe that. Furthermore, I’ve been refusing to think about it at all. Whenever my brain would threaten me with the subject, I would smother it with everything’s okays and you’re just overthinkings. I chose not to be honest with myself, because underneath that, there was something horribly frightening to face. But I can’t do it anymore.
No matter how frightening the issue may be, running away from it produces an effect far worse than facing it. There’s nothing more dangerous for your confidence and your ability of judgement than constantly lying to yourself and (automatically) constantly lying to other people.
So I suppose my first resolution for the year would be: be honest to yourself. It’s only good for you.