I have a confession, dear reader. I'm a resolution addict. I don't just make one Mount Everest of impossible expectations; I make a veritable topographic horizon of them. I list 10 to 20 resolutions, each in rich ink noir, and then proceed to break them all --- one right after another --- before the end of May. This year, I was rather proud of myself when I managed to shave my mountainous resolutions down to just three.
In case you missed the image above, I'll write them out:
1: Read the entire bible in a year.
2: Save money and pay down college debt.
3: Fight Less! Love Justin R. Smith More!
And you know that I'm going to be able to keep these, because something as ambiguous and all-encompassing as "Fight Less!" or straightforward as paying off thousands of dollars of debt is super simple to achieve, right?
Herein lies the lethal poison swirled within all failed new year's resolutions: achieving something is just so much harder than writing it down. Believe me. I should know.
Despite my lean list of 2014 resolutions, I find myself tented in defeat on 2/3 of my attack plan. Before even getting back to Dallas from Angel Fire, NM, Justin and I realized we'd blown our vacation budget. Then Justin's car died. Please, extrapolate the grisly details. As for my less angry outbursts / fights . . . Yikes. Let's just say sickness + selfish heart + exhaustion + fussy kids doesn't = lovingly patient attitude toward my poor husband.
So yeah, this isn't going well. Maybe next year I try less ambitious resolutions, such as "this year, I will clean out my bathroom drawer" (because who wants to do something as tedious as that without BIG accolades?!)