It’s January 4th and I have yet to write my goals for 2020. I’m trying not to panic. I brought in the New Year with a bottle of Tylenol Cold. I spent New Year’s Day toting a box of tissues around and sipping a bottomless cup of tea. January 2nd fell to a Netflix-in-bed day with another box of tissues, cough drops, and more Tylenol Cold.

Here’s the deal, whenever I’m sick for more than an hour, I sink into self-talk that goes something like this: “Oh no! Here it is; I’m to spend the rest of my life plagued with severe low energy, depression, and Netflix. Life as I know it is over.” I question, “Am I really this sick or have I somehow turned lazy? Would tougher women be up and at it, sneezes be damned? Oh, Gosh! Am I weak?” And so it goes.

It’s not that I didn’t journal–I did. Bled pages of purple in reflection of 2019. This is my practice prior to writing goals. And as I look back at 2019, I didn’t get around to writing my goals until January 4th, but for a way different excuse. We spent New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day welcoming our new Granddaughter, Lily. On Jan. 1, 2019, I wrote, “This is not the New Year’s I had planned.” On Jan 4th, 2019, I wrote my mantra for the year, “Living Life as an Adventure.” And then I corrected it to “Living Life in the Attitude of Adventure.” I oft failed at this. Reviewing my list of goals, I accomplished exactly 5/12.

I’ve been noticing a trend on social media. Two camps. The first camp touts “New year, new me!” Or “New decade, new me!” The second camp says, “No need for a new you! You are perfect as you are! Love yourself! Be kind! Stop beating yourself up for not accomplishing resolutions. You are exactly where you are supposed to be!” And then there’s all the “20 for 2020” lists of goals.

I can’t rest comfortably in either camp, but I can stick a toe in each. I am a list maker and abandoning goals altogether–sacrilege. Shaming myself for a 5/12 score–no virtue in that. And I do believe I am exacty where I’m supposed to be. But that doesn’t mean I stay here. I want more. More truth about who I am. More peace. More love. Less fear.

My mantra for the year is an affirmation BF and I wrote back in the summer: “In the spirit of surender and adventure, without expectations or control, I invite the miracles of The Universe to me.”

My word for the year: Invite.

Goals? I’ll get around to it. The 20 for 2020? Probably not.

So here’s to new adventures, invitations, good health, and love to you and me!