Let It Go

My husband, who doesn’t believe in setting New Year’s resolutions, has given up soda. Effective January 1.

I wished him happy trails on his journey of drinking more water from the orange Camelbak water bottle he got for Christmas. I’m happy for him, but I’m not willing to give up Cherry Cokes. Sorry Charlie (by which I mean the hubs and not our son who is actually named Charlie).

The trouble with traditional New Year’s resolutions for me is that they create all kinds of work. In the interest of improving ourselves, we add various new items to our list of daily responsibilities. This is where I lose interest in resolutions. I already have way too much to do, peeps. I need simplicity, not added pressure.

Snarky types might pipe in at this point and inform me that I should make a resolution to simplify my life, which is sort of like telling someone who is up to her armpits midstream crossing a big swift river, to use the footbridge several miles downstream instead. I am in the middle of navigating life, snarky types, and currently it’s intense. I am already in a constant state of trying to simplify. So, to the geniuses who may suggest it, I respond with slow sarcastic clapping. That’s brilliant guys. Thanks so much for the suggestion.

Anyway, I realized that a resolution doesn’t have to be the acquisition of a new habit, like juicing all your food from fresh produce, or making a ninety-minute workout the first part of your day. No thank you to both those propositions, btw. Like Dutch with his switch from soda to water, I could simply let something go.

Letting go, giving up, jettisoning—this concept holds much more appeal for someone like me. I am willing to give something up. In fact, I’m totally into going all Elsa from Frozen for the new year and I will Let. It. Go. People.

The thing I’m relinquishing is a burden that I have unwittingly allowed to weigh me down for some time. And really, it’s the dumbest thing.

It’s comparison.

Namely, the act of comparing my family to other families who do not have a Jack and a Charlie in their midst.

It’s ridiculous, I know. And now I’m not going to do it anymore. No more feeling inadequate that my family can’t do all the things that lots of other families can. It simply is what it is. We do not claim to be “normal.” No need to “keep up with” anyone.

I let that thing go, and I’m pleased with the sense of weightlessness.

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