Hello keyboard. Hello readers. It seems as though I should introduce myself it has been so long since we’ve spent time together. To those of you who’ve sent me messages or wrote notes of encouragement in Christmas cards – thank you – oh my goodness I needed that! It is the nineteenth day of January, a bit late for a post about the new year and resolutions, but here goes anyway.

The near constant stream of words in my head that I always think will make their way to here will not cooperate. They won’t magically find their way, nor will they cease their noise. It occurs to me that thinking about writing is much like thinking about exercising. Good intention without action is useless. I’m sure I have time for both, but don’t seem to prioritize either consistently. Perhaps I should try that voice recognition software while using the treadmill? I suspect that walking while getting nowhere paired with talking out loud to myself would bring my sanity into question.

A new year always brings reflection and goal setting. Recently I read a post by Christine Carter about resolutions. She suggested you consider how you want to feel and make resolutions based on that. It is one of those simple statements that makes you feel dumb for not looking at it that way before. Most of us want to feel happy, healthy, loved. But we don’t necessarily make resolutions that lead us there. We instead make resolutions that direct us toward feelings of stress, failure, and insecurity.

This year I intend to take an inventory of the things that make me feel happy, healthy, and loved. Then focus on doing more of the those things. Keep it simple. Eliminating goals that can only be achieved in terms of pounds, dollars, or percentages. Rather I will focus on laughter, movement, and time with those I love. The rest will fall into place. Literally, things will fall that may require Spanx to pick up, but I digress.

One thing on my radar this new year is myself, which sounds a bit selfish and indulgent. It feels uncomfortable, but it also feels like it is time. Time to think about myself a bit. My mid-life anxieties are bubbling just below the surface. I’m forty-four years old and not sure what I want to be when I grow up. I know I’m not alone in this uncertainty. Sometimes I vocalize a thought about a daydreamy life and wonder if it could exist. I did this last week and my seven year old offered this sage advice “then do it mom…that’s what you’d tell me.”

He is right of course, I would urge him to chase a dream. Somehow nurturing a child’s dream seems so natural, but to do the same for myself feels foolish.  Risk is not my comfort zone. As an introvert who finds sharing thoughts on a blog to be a bit outside the zone, bigger risks pretty much freak me out. I do so admire those movers and shakers who make bold moves. I have this nasty little habit of doubting myself and that dilutes my decision making. It is no wonder I’m uncertain of what I am meant to do, or should do, or even want to do. Every time I think I’ve gained some clarity I talk myself right out of it.

Mid-life has brought some better idea of who I am and what I want. I think the key is remembering it is the journey that matters more than the destination. It is the present that must be savored rather than traded in for something better.

So cheers to 2016. Resolve to feel good.