If you and I lived in ancient Rome, this month we'd most likely be making promises to Janus, the god of beginnings and endings, of war and peace. The month of January is named after Janus—that two-faced hottie—the god of time, doorways, and transitions. To be honest, Janus sounds like my worst nightmare and also sexy as hell. We probably would have dated if mere mortals could have swiped right on the gods of ancient Rome.
This year I am rethinking resolutions. I am unlearning what I once thought I had to resolve. What if everything we thought we needed to change about ourselves was only an invitation to experience more acceptance and joy? This is the question I am asking myself this January as I fantasize about having a torrid, month-long, life-altering affair with Janus.
In 2021, the only resolution I made was to be rejected 100 times. Primarily in my writing life, but I also felt called to focus on this resolution across the board. The start of the pandemic in 2020 made me realize I had lost contact with something in myself over the last 10 years that I desperately wanted back. 2020 made me realize I no longer wanted to improve. I didn't want to be more efficient or smarter or hotter or better in any way. I wanted to be worse. I wanted to be reminded of what it feels like to accept that my circumstances and myself may never get any better than this and that trying and failing and trying again in the direction of what I most desire and value is more than enough.
Since I was 8 years old, every year I resolved to lose weight or change my body in some way until I was in my late 20s. Then it was about "getting in shape." To look and move and try to be more feminine even though it’s never come naturally to me. Every year I failed and even the years where I did lose weight, where I met some arbitrary number I had decided would be something to be proud of that year, I still felt like I’d failed. No matter how much I lost, no matter how many dresses I bought or great haircuts I got, it never felt like enough. Why? Because what I wanted, what I needed, wasn't to actually lose weight or change myself at all.
I set myself up for failure by not understanding what was beneath the resolution. I needed to let go of the weight of cisnormativity. I needed to allow myself to no longer see my body in all the gendered ways I had been taught and that were reflected back to me since I was a kid.
The desire to lose weight wasn't about wanting to be skinnier or prettier or more legible as a woman. The desire to lose weight was the desire to slowly disappear because I didn't feel safe to be seen as I really am, by myself or anyone else. I never achieved my New Year's resolution until I accepted that I would always fail at resolving it. I would fail because the resolution was the wrong one.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Ask a Failure to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.