Are there still beautiful things?

I miss life. That's the phrase on everyone's lips, isn't it? We miss life. We miss trips out with friends, we miss concerts, bars, swimming pools and going on public transport without wearing masks. We miss conversations without mentioning the 'state of things' at the moment. We miss hugs. We miss looking forward to things. 

I thrive on forward, exciting plans. I wish I were one of those people who took life day by day, and smelled the flowers, and counted clouds, and whatever happens, happens and all that - but I'm not. I need concrete plans in my calender. Theatre, holidays, parties, weddings - knowing there's that feeling of fun and freedom and living to come. It's been snatched away from me this year and suddenly,  for maybe the first time in my life, I don't have that - no, I can't have that - anymore. My months are clear and I find myself staring into a future of nothingness.

Ok, that's a tad (or, you know, very) dramatic, but in some ways life feels dramatic. Both dramatic and super anti-climactic at the same time. It's been the longest, but quickest six months ever. The world shutdown in spring, we got shut in our houses, the days dragged and yet the months flew by and suddenly it's nearly autumn and I can feel my innate optimism getting whittled away, little by little. Chipped at through the months like a sculpture working on a piece of marble. Chip - all plays, gigs and holiday plans cancelled. Chip - can't see family or friends. Chip - only go out of your house as a necessity. Chip, chip, chip. 

Hold onto hope, I vow to myself. I find myself up and down with mood. Not the ups and downs one might imagine, like a roller coaster. If it's a roller coaster, it's one of those ones for kids that's about 15 feet high with a speed of 5 miles per hour. No, the mood changes are small and almost imperceptible. One week I'll feel slightly flatter, a little more down than normal. Then the next week I'll be just a bit brighter and things won't seem so bad. It's not depression, or anxiety, or anything as big as that...it's just a slight numbness. 

Life gets cyclical. I stress-bake and eat the profits and then worry about my weight and health. I run, then stop running, then start it up again, bewailing my lack of progress. I watch escapist tv, then I watch dystopia, because if we're living in one I might as well jump in feet first. I write and write and write and never quite finish anything. I read silly romance novels and re-read YA fantasy. I pray. I stop praying. I pray again. 

Hold onto hope, I vow to myself. I glimpse beauty in the mundane. A fox sunning itself on the grass below my balcony. A blue bike with a basket. Photos of my nieces and nephew. A friendly courtyard cat. Pink fairy lights in my bedroom. Fluffy ducklings at the local park that soon grow into adults.

I look for the beauty and I let myself feel the sadness. I don't do sadness well, to quote a line from Spring Awakening. I like to be happy. Everyone does, of course, but some people are good with the other feelings. They're ok with the rage or the melancholy or the even the every day neutral. I just want to smile, like a human golden labrador. Although hopefully not as dumb.  

There's bigger things in all of this, I see as I look at the lives of my friends around me. Wonderful things. Precious, intimate lockdown weddings. Engagements and new love. Multiple pregnancy announcements with the promise of new life to come. Even in the midst of sadness, and terror, and anger, and disappointment and boredom and frustration, there's still beautiful things. 

Hold onto hope, I vow to myself. As things begin to slowly open up, I step out into the world. Tentatively at first, and then head on. I become a tourist in my own city, going to Westminster Abbey and the aquarium and afternoon tea. I take the Tube and wear my mask and keep my distance and wonder if I should feel afraid. I wonder what others think, whether they're judging me for even going out in the first place. There's so much judgement at the moment. I meet up with friends and it revives my soul.

I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know where I, or the world, will be in a month, Christmas, a year. But I promise to keep reminding myself of the wonder in the world. I promise to look up. 

Hold onto hope. Vow to yourself, hold onto hope. 

In the midst of panic

It feels like the world's gone a bit mad, doesn't it? The only - and I do mean only - topic on everyone's lips is Coronavirus. Covid-19. The Pandemic. Not only in my country, but on a global scale. The news is constantly updating us on the precautions that certain countries are taking, including school closures and flight bans, and every day the infection (and sadly, death) count seems to tick up at a rapid rate. It's scary.

First it was China. That seemed far away. Sad, but far from home. Not too much of a worry affecting us. Then it spread through some of Asia, and Australia, and then Europe and the rest of the world. The atmosphere has changed. And not for the better.


Fear
The overarching feeling is that of fear. The anti-bac is all gone, and so are the masks. Someone coughs on the Tube and people edge away. Governments are imposing somewhat strict measures to contain the virus - some say it's too much, some say not enough - but everyone has an opinion. People worry that they will get it themselves or unknowingly infect someone with health issues. Others implore everyone to just stay inside and ride it out. This is combated by those that refuse to not live a normal life because of a 'just in case'. There's panic in the air.

This fear is reaching everyone, and I hate it. I understand it. But I still hate it.


Selfishness
The hoarding has set in, with pasta, toilet paper and pretty much everything else vanishing from stores. The attitude of  'well, if we have to stay indoors, at least I'll be alright' has taken over some people and with it, an inherent selfishness. A mindset of 'me first, others next'. In a heightened situation, people can go into  a mode that thinks only of their own survival, not taking into account that they are in a privileged being young or strong or with a means of transport. Not thinking about the elderly, the disabled, the homeless, the poor, the ones without ways of getting around easily. The ones who are truly in need.

Isolation
With many workplaces already setting working from home in place, and with possible school closures (and some countries like Italy in lock down), many are facing up to the fact that they may be housebound for a while. At my job we are splitting into teams and alternating working from home and in the office. While the super introverted are probably rejoicing about a week spent in pajamas, I'm already feeling trapped and I don't work from home for another week.

There's also the social isolation that comes with it. Tourist site, theatres, festivals and generally fun activities are closing, holidays are cancelled, and there's advice not to shake hands or hug. Combined with working from home or self-isolation, it feels as though life is being put on hold.

Through all of this there seems to be an underlying anxiety in an already anxious world. What's going to happen? When's it going to end? But there's still hope. And there's still an opportunity to make something good of this. To see the beauty in the middle of the uncertainty.


Generosity
There's been a lot of good advice floating around about how to help people, and I want to echo it. This is an amazing chance to help your fellow humans. Donate to a food bank. Go shopping for those who can't go themselves. Cook for others. Combat the selfishness with generosity and, not to sound too hippie-dippie but spread love, not fear.


Peace
Take a deep breath. If you can, go for a walk in nature. Hug a fluffy animal. Read a book. Paint, write, stretch. Look away from social media and the news for a bit. Make time for stillness and rest. Even in the middle of the storm, peace can still come.

Courage
This is a time to take a stand against the fear that's taking over our nation. Take precautions, certainly, and don't be reckless but also don't give in to the panic that is surrounding us. The Bible mentions not to be afraid over 300 times and there's a reason for that. Fear cripples but I know I have a God who is bigger than all this. A God who cares about what happens, and who tells us that we can look to Him in times of trouble. In Him I can find peace, and I can also find the courage to turn my fear into something better. Joy. Positivity. I want something beautiful to come shining through this darkness.

Hold onto hope, friends. We will get through this.

The next chapter

I wasn't going to write a New Year's/end of the 2010s post. I'd decided that it would be cliché and my words would be trite. And then I decided to write it anyway.

So here it is, my last blog post of not only the year, but the decade. I can't guarantee genuine words of wisdom, but I can certainly guarantee my attempts at it.

My experience of the last decade can be summed up by the below:

I'm happy!
I'm sad!
I'm fine.
I'm happy!
I'm sad!
You know what? I'm growing. I understand life will have its ups and downs but through it all, I know I'm going to be ok.

Or maybe it was like:

Life is FUN
Life is BORING
LIFE IS NOT FUN
Life is VERY AVERAGE
Life is PRETTY GREAT

And repeat.


A decade of monumental moments

The 2010s were standout for all the big, landmark events of my life. I graduated university, I lived in 3 different cities, had a number of jobs (some better than others), I traveled Europe and North America, attended numerous weddings, was a bridesmaid and welcomed 2 nieces and a nephew. There have been some really hard moments too, and it's all of those, the rapturous and the torturous that have shaped me as a person.


A decade of friendships

I have made some dear, dear friends in the 2010s (and then, of course, there are the friends I already knew). Some I've only made within the past few years, some I've lost contact with, some live thousands of miles away and some live a 5 minute walk from me and yet I know I wouldn't be the person I am today without them. I can't name everyone, but if you consider us have ever been friends - even if we haven't seen each other in years - please know that I treasure you and what you have brought to my life.

A decade of learning 

The growth you go through from your early 20s to early 30s is kind of staggering. I know I'm sounding like someone who is 81, not 31, but when people say that your 20s is a journey of self-discovery, it's absolutely true. Who I was in 2010 to who I am in 2019 doesn't look radically different on the outside. I still look pretty similar, and I still like a lot of the same things. My character hasn't fundamentally changed. But my way of looking at the world, at others, and at myself has grown so much. I'm far more confident and more sure of my place in the world. More aware of my shortcomings and of my talents. I've matured. I'm still learning, and I'm aware of how much further I have to go. But I honestly think that one day I'll look back and say definitively this was the decade I learned and grew the most.


A decade of mystery

No, I didn't become an MI6 spy (or did I?), but the decade began with a question mark. I was in a happy little uni bubble, burying my head in the sand as to what would happen when I had to leave and face the real world. The bubble popped, of course, and real adulthood struck with a harsher blow than I expected. I've spent the last eight years making plans and then coming to terms with what actually happened (my plans, I've found, rarely work out in the way I've envisioned). I've tested careers, friendships, romance, dreams and often felt like I was stumbling in the dark, looking for something, or maybe somebody to lead me towards the exit. I've learned I'm not in control as much as I want to be - and that's a good thing. If life had worked out exactly as I wanted it, I wouldn't have done the things I've done, met the people I've met, or become the person I am today.

In some ways the decade is ending with a questions mark too. I have hopes and dreams for the 2020s, but I honestly don't know where I'll be in 2029. Married with kids? A bestselling author? Living on an alpaca farm? A combination of all three? I'm looking forward to finding out.

A look to the new decade

I'm honestly excited by what 2020 and beyond will bring. The fun and hope and excitement and love and beauty that's awaiting me. Of course there will be struggles and sadness too, but that's no reason not to hope. It's a fresh page, a clean slate and all of those other hackneyed sayings. But just because those phrases are tired, doesn't mean they aren't true.

Maybe your 2010s were marked by wonder, by tragedy, or by a little of both. Maybe you did everything you wanted to, or maybe there are things you desperately want but have yet to achieve. Take a deep breath and step into the new decade. I'll end this with a quote by obscure, indie author C.S. Lewis.

'There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind' 

The 12 Days of Christmas: my own version

Ho ho ho and Merry Christmas! Yes, the Christmas season is upon and I for one could not be more delighted. Partly because I love the Christmas festivities but mostly because I get two unadulterated weeks of holiday. I'm torn between wanting to cram my days full of fun activities or hiding away at my parent's house and doing nothing all day.

In an attempt to try to keep some balance, and in honour of that fun but silly carol, I've decided to create my own 12 Days of Christmas - a list of 12 things that I am aiming to do and think about in these last few weeks of 2019.


12 sleeps a-slumbering

Like many of you, these past few months have been BUSY. Work has been stressful, the social occasions have ramped up, and I am just exhausted. I've been running on this nervy, end-of-year energy for these last couple of weeks and I am ready to just stop. I am taking these next 2 weeks to rest and recuperate. Early to bed, late to rise, heck, even midday naps. And yes, I will be living in pajamas, thank you very much.


11 Hallmark movies

I adore the made-for-tv Christmas movies. You know, where a busy woman goes to a small, snowy podunk town and falls in love with the local Christmas tree farm owner who teaches her the real meaning of Christmas, and then they fall in love in 2 days and share a single chaste kiss under the mistletoe. Those ones. With the wooden acting and bad dialogue that are obviously all filmed in the same Canadian town during summer. They're terrible and predictable and there's something so cosy and comforting in that. It's not Christmas without them.


10 kilometres running

I've run two 10k races since 2018, but my minor athletic tendencies have, shall we say, dwindled over the past few months. I'm pretty sure I saw tumbleweed roll past my trainers the other day. I'm using this holiday period to attempt, amongst the chocolate and gin consumption, to try and get a bit more exercise and start training for my upcoming 10k (as of yet unbooked). Let's go 2020 - maybe I'll even try to run TWO races.


9 cuddles with kitties

I miss not having my cat in London. Some nights nothing would be better than having a fluffy cat curled up purring on my lap while rain lashes on the window pane. Instead, I have to make do with luring the local cat to me so I can stroke it before it runs away, and then chase after it yelling 'come back I looooove you.' This may or may not be a true story.

I make the most of my time in Gloucester and smother my poor cat with affection. He's definitely plotting my demise.


8 buns a-baking

Let's face it, most of us are eagerly awaiting the delicious Christmas food. As an amateur but enthusiastic baker, I'm going to be making the most of my parent's spacious kitchen and their 40 year old - but still working - Kenwood mixer to whip up some tasty festive goodies.


7 Brights a-gathering

We're lower on numbers in the Bright clan this Christmas which is sad, as Christmas is the only time of the year we're ever all really together. But nevertheless, I'm still looking forward to catching up with the family that's around and revelling in our quirky Bright-ness. I'm especially excited about Auntie time with my little niece and nephew. The one bad thing about living in London is not getting to see them so much and they've grown a little more each time I see them. And if I'm more into playing Barbies than they are, well, that's just me doing my familial duty.


6 books for reading 

I don't read as much as I used to, or as much as I want to. Partly because life is busy and partly because I simply don't make enough time for it. As a massive bookworm, I take advantage of this time to read ALL THE BOOKS. Whether it's the latest must-read, a classic book I've never got around to reading, a trashy romance or some light YA fantasy, few things make me happier than curling up on the sofa and getting lost in another world. Bliss.


5 board games

Like with most families, Christmas is the time that our board games get taken out of the drawer, dusted off and played in an epic battle for supremacy and bragging rights. While I'm partial to the brainy, quiz type ones, I'll play anything this time of year. Except Monopoly. That's the devil's game.


4 creative outlets

While Christmas movies and Boxing Day tv will certainly be on the agenda, I am purposely going to explore my creative side a bit more. It could be writing or drawing or heck, maybe I'll dust off my old guitar, Jeff Bob Jimmy, and torture my family with my clunky playing and slightly off-key singing. Anything that gives me that little bit of a creative spark.


3 deep breaths 

Christmas can also be a bit overwhelming sometimes. There's this underlying to have the best, merriest time ever, where no one snaps at each other or flips the Monopoly board. While it can be a wonderful time, for some it can be lonely, or difficult, or just a bit too much. I'm going to remind myself to be kind to myself this Christmas. To not beat myself up if I've eaten too much, or if I've had a bit too much socialisation, or if I'm not having the best time ever (!!!) every single day. Sometimes it's ok to just...be.


2 digital detoxes

I have a confession to make. I've become a bit of a phone addict. According to my Instagram stats, I average 50 minutes a day on it. That information was a bit of a shock to the system - what am I actually doing on there? - and so I've determined to try to put my phone down a bit this Christmas and practice being present. I also want to try and cut down on screen time in general, so I'll be purposely choosing other entertainment avenues other than my computer and the tv. I brought out the old chess set today and considered doing a puzzle. Apparently going home turns me into a pensioner.


1 hope 

During this crazy time, it's easy to get bogged down with so much - stuff. With all the presents, and the parties, it's easy to forget why I'm actually celebrating. I hate to trot out that 'remember the reason for the season' cliche but for me, it's so important to keep that at the forefront of my mind. Christmas is about hope - the hope for the world born in Jesus all those years ago. In this crazy political climate, remembering that gives me a sense of peace. That even though this world seems dark, there's a light through out it all. There's hope that everything will be ok.

Falling into happiness

One thing I have been challenging myself about recently is finding the joy in my every day. Too often I live in the future, my thoughts racing ahead to the what-comes-nexts rather then sitting back and looking around with appreciation at the here and nows. 2019 is moving a breakneck speed yet it's felt pretty quiet at the same time. I haven't really had a year of monumental moments. Ok sure, in the past month I've been to Cyprus, Paris and watched a film in a drawing room at Buckingham Palace (I will never stop talking about that experience) but generally life has been rather steady.

As I was walking home last week, much later than usual after a busy day at work, I felt...happy. There was no real reason to feel happy, just as there was no real reason to feel unhappy. Nothing drastically good or bad had happened, life just...was. And yet I felt content. More than fine. The gentle kind of happiness, the type that creeps up on you, like the morning sun on your face as you sit basking in its warmth. When you just feel that, yes, life is good.

I have decided to put this all into words - an online thankfulness journal, of sorts. So this autumn, happiness is...


...the changing of the seasons

I'm not going to lie. After coming back from 30 degree heat and swimming in the Mediterranean sea in Cyprus, to rainy, dark Britain, I wasn't exactly thrilled about the start of autumn. But then the trees started turning golden, the leaves underfoot perfectly crunchable, and the air began to get that fresh, crisp scent and I remembered why it is my favourite season. It's the time for woolly jumpers and cuddly scarves. Boots and leggings and coats. A new haircut or a knitted hat. Over-flavoured and over-priced coffee and burying your nose into a new book. Bake Off and period dramas and scented candles. The list goes on. Maybe that makes me a basic white girl, but I don't really care. Pass me those Ugg boots and call me Brittany. Pumpkin Spice Lattes for life.

...getting creative

To me autumn is the time to start anew. With only three months until the end of the year, heck, the decade, something awakens in me and I start to shift gear into full throttle project mode. After a full day at work, it can be hard to muster the energy to do something creative instead of flopping in front of the tv until it's time for bed. As the nights draw in and the weather gets colder, I'm using this time to do things that spark my creativity. I'm trying to remember that it's not about how good I am, it's how good it makes me feel.

...living in London

I know, I know, this one is on my 'forever' list but after three years of living here, I often forget how much I love this place. It becomes routine, mundane, just another part of life. I generally avoid town on the weekends because it becomes a crowded, touristy hellhole, and so weeks can go by without me ever really feeling like I live in one of the biggest and best cities in the world. A few weeks ago I was walking over Waterloo Bridge and I was suddenly struck with an overwhelming gratitude. I live in LONDON. The home of literature and theatre and a thousand historical figures. And not only that, London feels like mine. I have my 'places' - coffee shops I love, parks I frequent, little side streets that are off the beaten path. It's the place I always dreamed about and I'm going to try to appreciate every moment, even if that will be difficult on the rush hour Piccadilly line.

...saying no

I can be a bit of a yes person. Sometimes because I feel like I should say yes, but mostly because I want to do ALL OF THE THINGS. There are so many experiences in life and choosing not to do one seems like a big waste. But even though I want to do all the things, whether I should is another matter entirely. The more I start to take time for myself, the more I realise I need that time. As much as it can suck saying no to a fun social engagement, I know that I'll be a better me if I just take that time to sleep, or read, or have a bath or just switch off. And through this, I've started learning more about myself. About the things that drain me and the things that cause me to light up. The more I do it, the easier saying no becomes - and the more I like it.

...deepening friendships
Lastly, I'm truly cherishing the friendships I currently have, and am intentionally carving out more space to enjoy time with them. Whether it's chats over coffee, going to the cinema or even just sending funny memes to each other, few things bring me such joy in life than spending time with the people I love.

The ambiguous conundrum of living your dream

Occasionally, when I go back to my home town or talk to a friend I haven't seen in a while, someone will comment on how I look like I'm living my best life. They've seen my Instagram photos, seen all the places in London I've been, all the social occasions. I will interject to tell them that I'm only posting the highlights (I've written about that before), that life isn't always G&Ts at cool bars. They know that but still, I'm living in my favourite city and having fun, right? "You're living your dream!" they tell me.

And there I pause, baffled, because my experience of living my dream is far less glamourous than they're imagining.

Let me set the scene: it's Wednesday after work. I'm sitting in my small bedroom in Highbury, wearing joggers and a baggy hoodie. I should really be out for a run, but it's raining so instead I'm sitting on my bed in my, quite frankly, abominably messy room, sipping a cup of tea and resembling some sort of sloth-woman hybrid. And before you tell me that everyone does that on a weekday, I was doing almost exactly the same thing on Friday night...

Not exactly the inspiring, exciting, shiny London life I had imagined, in my long-ago daydreams. And it makes me wonder, as I look at those I consider to be tracking way ahead of me, the ones who truly do seem to be living their dreams - what is life actually like on the other side?

I think we all get a bit of life-envy. The whole grass-is-greener situation. I sigh wistfully over the lives of those who get to travel around the world (for work or pleasure), another day another cool photo of some far-off city that I can only dream of visiting. I gaze with longing at the people who are out and about with their jobs, dashing this place and that, getting wined and dined by clients, or attending exclusive parties, while I sit at my desk and debate whether or not I should go to the vending machine at 4pm when the snacks are 20% off.

But for the ones who have started their own business, or run a marathon, or bought a house, or have kids, it probably doesn't feel as fabulous as it looks on the outside. There's the old saying that talent is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration and I think that is probably what living your dream is actually like. It's the daily grind, the monotony that no one sees. People see the infrequent highs but they don't see you in the trenches. The plugging away well into the nights. The lack of sleep. The scrimping and saving. The hoping and praying. The struggle.

There's a song in The Greatest Showman that really resonates with me.

'Cause every night I lie in bed, the brightest colours fill my head, a million dreams are keeping me awake'.

I'm that person who has a million dreams. Too many to ever realistically achieve them all (or perhaps, not the talent to achieve them all. I'll sadly never be a Tony award-winning musical actress). And it makes me wonder, what happens to the person with that one dream? Do they just enjoy it forever, feeling completely satisfied in life? Do they escalate the dream to the next level? Do they have to find a new dream? Do they feel empty after the initial bliss wears off? Have a minor breakdown because they don't know what to do next? Whatever it is, I want to know.

And then there are those who are still dreaming. Those of us who are slowly working away at something that seems so far away. Maybe there are some of us who are too afraid to try, because being within a fingertips grasp of the dream but not getting it is somehow worse than never having it at all. Or there's the underlying societal pressure of ACHIEVE, DO, BE SOMETHING that makes us feel unworthy. That we'll never be good enough to get there, or we're not doing enough to get there. Or even that our dreams are too small. You want to work in a bakery? Stop being so small-minded, you can do so much more! You can own a bakery. Wait, you don't want to own a bakery? You should want to own a bakery! Own TEN bakeries! Open a bakery chain in every town in England, you loser!

Surely, I think, there must to be more to life than the constant dream-chasing.

Maybe that's the whole point of it. You can't really be 'living your best life' because really, what does that actually mean? Does it mean living in an elevated state of happiness, because you've got what you were hoping for? Does it take into account the days you feel like rubbish? Is it black-and-white? Are you either living your dream or not? I think living your dream is simply...living. It's the journey, the road along the way with its highs and lows and all that's in between. And, sure, it's good to want things for your future and to work hard to get there. But you have to be careful not to live too much in the future, in the fantasy of your dream. That you'll be working or wishing so hard to get to there that you'll miss the life that's in front of you - it's all so fleeting.

Maybe one day you'll look back at where you are and say, oh, maybe THAT was the dream after all.

A new year's hope

The last day of the year is a time for reflection, resolution and hope. As 2018 draws to an end, we begin to take stock of the past and look to the future and I, too, have been looking back at my year and considering my desires for 2019. While it's easy to become jaded, I think there's something special about taking a breath, getting some space and really taking time to think about the good, the bad and the ugly of the past year and then putting it behind you for a fresh new year. 

Reflection

2018 has gone by in the blink of an eye. For some of you it was a year of joy and for others, a year of hardship. Maybe your year, like mine, was a roller coaster of dizzying highs and crushing lows that had you holding on with white knuckles until it finally slowed down. 

While there were some huge moments that made up my 2018, I've been trying to remember how the smaller ones have shaped my year. Hanging out with friends in parks on a summer's day, discovering a pretty building in London I'd never seen before, laughing hysterically with my people from my Hub, recalling precious wisdom from a preach months later, that time I pushed through a run when I wanted to give up...

Life is coloured by the key events but it's the more insignificant ones that add the shading. It's easy to write off a year by remembering only the things that perhaps didn't go to plan, or rose-tint a year by remembering the things that did. No year is ever without it's bumps and no year is ever without it's delights, no matter how small those delights may be. It's by looking at the small, I get a clearer picture of the big. I see how I've grown, what I need to work on and what the things are that truly matter to me. 

This year I turned 30, I saw Taylor Swift in concert, I travelled to the USA, I attended a number of weddings, I ran a 10k, I started a new job, and I developed some deep, meaningful friendships. And that is to name but a few things! In some ways it's a been hard - a very hard - year, but when I look back, I know I've been blessed. 

Resolution

By now, almost everyone will have a New Year’s Resolution in mind. Even if you don’t believe in officially setting them (let’s face it, you’ll break them by 5^th January anyway), you might still have some things you want to achieve in 2019. Lose weight, eat more healthily, exercise more, learn a new language, go travelling, quit smoking – the list goes on. All ways we can improve ourselves; ways to become a better us. Because that’s what it’s about, really, this idea that we are not quite enough as ourselves. That on 1^st January you are chubby and lazy and unaccomplished but by next 31^st December – with enough willpower – you might (might) be a toned, wealthy, super traveller who’s fluent in Mandarin. Inevitably, this will not happen. Oh, but maybe next year – and the cycle continues.

There isn’t anything inherently wrong with wanting to improve yourself or using the new year to resolve do so. Quite the contrary, I believe we should always be moving forward and reaching for new goals. But often this resolution comes with a sense of dissatisfaction about ourselves. That just dropping that bit of weight, or by becoming more organised or by running that marathon – then, then we will be worth something. Then we can be proud of ourselves. But why can’t we be proud of ourselves as we are? Yes, maybe you didn’t achieve all you hoped for in 2018, but that doesn’t mean you are a failure.

Instead of thinking about the things you haven’t done, think about what you have. Maybe you’ve weathered a lot and have come out of it stronger. Or you volunteered every week. Or you deepened some friendships. Those aren’t insignificant things! Ok, maybe you’re not as fit as you like, or as well-read as you want to be. Improve that – but only if you want to. Don’t feel like you must be something more, don’t feel like you have to try to fit into a certain mould because you’ll be a ‘better’ you. You’re honestly enough as you are.

Let’s be kinder to ourselves this coming year.

Hope

Call it the naive Disney-fed optimist in me, but I can’t help springing into the New Year with anticipation. Perhaps it’s because of the aforementioned resolutions, but it also feels like a clean slate. That a fresh year brings fresh possibilities. That maybe this year will be exciting and adventurous, a year of blissful delights and dreams come true. Of course, life rarely turns out the way I want it to, and a year will always surprise me in one way or the other, for better or worse. Yet come December my mind will reset again to that of hopeful expectation. 

Christmas is the perfect time to restore the optimism I lost during the year. The Christmas story is about hope for the world, and it's something I'm trying to think about as I enter the next year. There's a couple of lines in the Christmas carol 'O Holy Night' which talk about this: 'a thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn'. Often this world can feel weary. Politics are precarious, society fractured and the environment crumbling, and everything feels a bit fragile. Yet despite all that, there is still a hope for the world. As 2019 comes leaping in, we can cling to that hope and perhaps see new and glorious things happen this coming year. 

2018 may have been the best year, or the worst, but let's shake it off and look towards the new year with renewed hope in our hearts.