I'm a fool for New Year's resolutions. I used to make long elaborate lists that I would pour over, edit and revise until they were just so in time for the last day of the old year. Beginning on the first day of the New Year, I would roll up my sleeves and go to work.
Even if that seems foolish, I actually have a pretty good track record with resolutions. I became fit because of one. I got out of a bad relationship because of one. I learned to live alone and live fully because of one. And during those not-so-momentous year changes, I would resolve to remain the better me, the improved me and that always helped me maintain discipline and keep goals and aspirations in mind.
Now that I"m running a household and a family my list is not elaborate and polished anymore. I may not even have time to write it down in my journal - which I barely write in too these days, but I edited it down to make it simple and true.
I vow to be more accepting this New Year.
Accepting of my sadness, my jealousy, my need to belong. Accepting of all the precocious 3, 4 and 5 year olds out there, who either push Gus out of the way as if he didn't exist, or with youthful exasperation make sure they show off their own accomplishments to highlight his short-comings. Accepting of school officials and therapists, who seems to know little, talk too much and basically keep their eyes on the bottom-line, like a Hedge-Fund manager. Accepting of Gus, even when he drives me to the brink with repetitiveness, idiosyncrasies and otherwise socially-unacceptable behavior. Accepting of well-meaning strangers, who question us with glances, or comment on Gus' height and looks, because those are safe things to comment on. Accepting of all the unwell meaning people out there, who let us know every step of the way, that they don't approve of otherness.
I want to be more accepting of myself, too.
I hope, sincerely hope, 2012 will be a better year for me.