The tradition of New Year’s resolutions was probably invented by someone like me. A list-maker. A box-checker. Someone who likes looking over her shoulder to see how far she’s come. Despite that, I haven’t made a New Year’s resolution since college. I was grateful when, a few years ago, resolutions went out of style in the online world. In their place, a new annual practice was introduced on social media: choose a “theme” for the coming year, a word or two that represents a vision for your life. People chose words such as nourish, focus, adventure. The themes were nebulous but that was the point. Resolutions—with their measurable outcomes—were too restrictive and condemning. Why resolve to exercise three times a week if it’s only going to make you feel bad when you don’t? You can’t fail at “nourish.” Though I’m not sure you can officially succeed either.
Of course I grasped at this trend like it was Pantone’s Color of the Year. In early January of that year, I chose my two words. By March I had forgotten them. They sat in my journal the way my “Radiant Orchid” cowl sits in my closet. So fresh and new at the time, yet quickly superfluous. Near the end of the year, I reread my words anyway to see how I had fared. The only conclusion I came to about myself is that I can be pretty presumptuous about how I think my life will turn out. Maybe I’m too forgetful for this practice to work. Or maybe the words I chose weren’t relevant to my life and the turns it took.
Most of the time, we don’t know what we need to learn or the circumstances that await us in the year ahead. I don’t. A lot of lessons that I’ve learned in life have been against my will and out of my control. Some years, I’ve learned about grief—its shape-shifting nature, its weight and complexity. Some years I’ve learned the beauty of autonomy or the hard lessons of humility and forgiveness. I’ve rarely seen any of these lessons coming. I wouldn’t have chosen them as my theme for the year. No one writes down: grief, humility, prejudice, compromise. It’s fine to point to a horizon. I’m not anti-goal or unambitious. We have freedom to make certain choices that shape our lives. But we are also limited. (And in my case, forgetful.)
Maybe the solution—at least for me—is to think even smaller. A while ago, I took a mindfulness class. During the class, the instructor introduced the idea of the 1% change. He taught that we often don’t need to overhaul our lives or reinvent ourselves to experience lasting positive change. We simply need to adjust our course. He compared it to a ship at sea. A ship that adjusts its course by 1% changes its entire journey (and destination) over time. One small shift changes the trajectory, whether you’re talking about a ship’s heading or personal growth.
The shift I’m hoping to make this year is to develop the habit of reframing. In her book The Gratitude Diaries, Janice Kaplan explores reframing as a way to be grateful despite circumstances. She wasn’t the first to develop this idea of course. In some ways, it’s similar to looking for the proverbial “silver lining” or “looking on the bright side.” I’ve never liked those idioms however, because they seem naive or suggest we should ignore or suppress pain and hardship. Reframing means to evaluate and change our interpretation of events and circumstances, not slap a platitude on a situation. Some events don’t have a silver lining, but we can often change how we interpret them.
One common example that Kaplan gave was her fellow New Yorkers’ tendency to gripe about the winter weather. (Which is not a tendency that’s unique to New York.) Kaplan pointed out this common practice among her colleagues and called it “bonding over bellyaching.” Working in an office environment, I can tell you that this happens nearly every day. In the summer, people complain that it’s too hot or hasn’t rained enough. In the winter, it’s the cold and ice and gray skies. Bonding over bellyaching. In this case, we’re choosing to see something as a hardship that actually isn’t one. (We work all day in a climate-controlled building. The weather can do whatever it wants.) But I think reframing can also work in situations that are genuinely difficult. In fact, mental health therapists use cognitive reframing in the treatment of anxiety, depression, and PTSD. Sometimes reframing can take just a moment or two, at other times, it requires a little more work. This site offers a few practical tips for reframing that’s helpful for more complicated situations.
How about you? Anyone else altering their course in the new year? Or have experience with reframing? Feel free to share your tips or experiences!
