Normally this time of year, I’m recovering from a sugar bender and thinking hopefully about all the ways I’ll change myself for the better, starting in January. A planner and to-do-lister by nature, the anticipation of January 1st — and all the nice resolutions I’ll plan — tops that of Christmas Eve to my 9-year-old self (although if I get surprised with dinosaur toys on New Year’s, I guess they’ll be even).
This time around, things feel…different.
Instead of building, growing, and upgrading, I’m feeling…destructive.
I want to clean out my fridge and pantry, and throw away the foods that I know make me feel terrible.
I want to purge my closet of any clothes that don’t make me feel professional or sexy or bad ass.
I want to question every rule, every policy, every procedure at work and home and ask, “Does this make sense? Why are we doing these things?” And if something is outdated, antiquated, or no longer useful it needs to GTFO.
How can I fill my life with abundance, little (and big) pleasures, and a sense of purpose if there’s all this stuff in the way? My home is literally cluttered. My job is metaphorically cluttered. My mind is cluttered with distracted and distressful thoughts. It would be very easy to set some empty resolutions and break them a few weeks into January, but not this year.
I’m gonna kick open every door, burn the bad thoughts, kiss the naysayers goodbye. I’m gonna clear all the junk out of my life to make room for all the awesome.
2018 will be so fresh, so clean. Bring it.