2023
This is the year that things will be different. This is the year I do less. The year where I will not rush. I will not run to yoga I will not brush my teeth as quickly as possible while also trying to complete 20 squats or clean the sink. No more multitasking, unless the hair dryer falls off the shelf like it did last week during a vigorous tooth washing session and I needed to catch it.
I will leave 10
minutes earlier for everything, including events where I’m not even required to
be on time, like taking a walk in the neighborhood or picking up more
toothpaste from the drug store. I will
take deeper breaths while working, inhaling to the count of the number of
emails in my inbox. And I will
unsubscribe from at least one email list daily, starting with Booking
Buddy because the sales are never as
good as they say, and Poshmark clothing, because there are way too many buttons
on their shirts, and Pennsylvania
democrats because I already made the phone calls for John Fetterman and he won.
I’m also going to unsubscribe from Julie and Hannah, the dynamic duo that initially sounded like unstoppable essential
oil evangelists who might help reduce stress levels, but whose emails google
keeps telling me I haven’t opened in 6 months. Do I want to stay unsubscribed? Thank you, Google for helping me stick to the
New Year’s plan.
This is the year that I will say “no” more often, or at the
very least, think about saying no more often, unless it seems like it’s
a really cool opportunity, which sometimes it is, but sometimes it isn’t and in
any case, it seems appropriate to think about it for a little bit and just see
what the words “Thank you for thinking of me but I can’t fit it into my
schedule” feel like when I say them out loud. I will also stop booking meetings so close
together, allowing for time to sip tea quietly on the couch, or have a long
leisurely teeth brushing session with possible extra flossing as I inhale
deeply wishing I hadn’t unsubscribed from Julie and Hannah’s essential oil list
which might be nice to smell while I’m inhaling so deeply over the sink that
I’m not cleaning.
I will be less busy.
I’m not sure what this actually means, but it seems like a good
idea. I hear other people say it and
they smile when they do, with those two creases between their eyebrows
diminishing as the utter this phrase. I
will also work on my inter-eyebrow creases by making more appointments at the
spa, which I will amble to and leave 10 minutes early to get to, even if it
means waiting in the reception area reading a magazine about the travel I may
have missed because I no longer know about which airlines fly where and when.
2023 is going to be full of space. Open space, that is. The kind that you just sit and bask in or
wallow in depending on how you feel about having extra time with nothing to do.
I know this will be good for me. I can think more about how I can fill the space in the
future with meaningful activities that I may not be aware of right now, but
which will become more apparent as I unsubscribe from the chatter and allow for
the worthwhile emails to rise to the top of my inbox and make the necessary
phone calls and/or web clicks that will take me to sites that might just change
my outlook on life, or at the very least, help me learn some new vocabulary
words or better understand the economy.
I will have more time!
Time to nap and read the entire New Yorker article, order an
appetizer AND an entree and write for more than the 15 minutes right before my
writing group meets, and go to the bank in person to deposit checks so I can converse with the
teller, ask them about their day instead
of taking a photo of the check on our wooden dining room table and virtually depositing
it with zero words coming out of my mouth, or eye contact beyond looking at the
grooves of wood in the table which are lovely but don’t help me remember that
I’m alive.
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