I made a 2016 New Year’s resolution to be nicer this year. Like I used to be. Of course that all ended with a predictably snarky comment I made on January 2nd. I can’t repeat it, but let’s just say it was a slightly cruel criticism of an acquaintance. The kind of comment I wouldn’t want my daughter to hear. I cracked it like I was superior or something. I shared the joke with my husband and we both got a cackle out of my pithy observation even though I knew my laughter instantly made me a phony two-face. Of course, I’m sure people make fun of me all the time but that’s beside the point. This individual was the innocent butt of my joke. I’m not saying he didn’t deserve my derision, (he really is an ass) but I should’ve kept it to myself until at least 2017. BTW, all politicians are exempt from my failed resolution.
I feel doubly guilty about my habitual snark because I am doubly guilty. I made a similar promise during the Jewish High Holidays not to be two-facey or hypercritical of other people. But I can’t help myself. It must be my muted self-flagellation that compels me to insult others. (And the fact that it’s fun.) Anyway, I promised God I wouldn’t be bitchy this year. Or as bitchy, and I prayed He/She would hear me. I want to be inscribed in the Book of Life because I am deathly afraid of death. Classic thanatophobia.
What a disgrace to blow two opportunities—two New Years—to be kind. Blowing it doesn’t give me full reign however, to be my true self the rest of the year. (My mother would argue that I’m not really that mean.) I’m still going to try to be less annoyed with people. I’m going to try to be more loving, empathetic, and patient. The way I try with my family. (Especially my teenagers.) After much self-analysis I’ve figured out that if I didn’t beat myself up so often–about parenting, caregiving, wifely duties, spaciness, bad time management skills, etc.–I wouldn’t be so mean. (My mother disagrees with my daughter about my level of meanness.) It was a tough year but I shouldn’t take it out on others. All that’s going to get me is another lecture from my persistently jolly husband. Blech.
I’ve actually come up with another New Year’s resolution. And it’s not a sanctimonious one. I’m going to practice what I preach to my kids about having a positive attitude. I’m not saying I have to bask in a sunny disposition, (my mother would argue that I already have one) I would just like to redevelop an outlook on life that reflects positivity, good will, and strength. Seriously. I’ll repeat to my soul what my mother repeated to me over and over and over again when I was young: Make lemonade out of lemons, (that one’s annoying) don’t try to control what happens to you, but rather your reaction to it, and have the wisdom to recognize the flow and then go with it. Maybe I could actually flow with kindness. Nah. The one thing about a resolution is reality. Only promise yourself what you can deliver. Happy New Year, and best of luck with your resolutions.