when January’s goals become summer’s total nonsense

I love a new year. I don’t do the resolutions thing in general, but I like the excuse to examine the year that’s gone and think ahead to what I want for the coming one, and make some plans to move forward.

January of 2018 was no exception. If anything, I was ready to launch with even more enthusiasm than the prior years. I was doing it at the beginning of January, which seems pretty basic, except that since 2012, I’ve waited until our family vacation late in the month to do any of this stuff. We didn’t take a vacation, so I had no reason to wait. Also, I tried Powersheets for the first time, which is basically a really in-depth goal-setting workbook. It is pink and has multicolored leaves on the front and some gold embossing. So inspiring and hopeful! I was SO READY TO OWN 2018.

I set up my SMART goals (Specific! Measurable! Attainable! Something that starts with “R”! Time bound!) and got to work. (Relevant. R is Relevant. Thanks, Google.)

Then the end of February came and knocked me on my backside. My health tanked. All progress was undone. Any future goals were forgotten. I was underwater, just hoping to find my way to the surface for air.

I’ve got some medical support now, and I’m feeling a little less like I’m drowning, so I decided to take another look at my goals and the action steps I’ve supposedly been taking for more than half of a year by now.

Um… Yeah. Not so much. The one about daily time in the Bible is working out because I found a way that works really well for me. But everything else has fallen to the wayside in favor of “just make it until bedtime.”

So I have these goals, that seemed so good, so God-appointed in January. And then I have this actual life. The two don’t match at all.

So what do I do with it?

Talk to God about it at length.

This has probably been the hardest part for me- I was so sure I heard Him say I needed to work on my health [weight] this year. What I actually heard was “we’re going to focus your health this year.” Well. I guess that’s what’s been happening, but there is no way I could have imagined what that would mean in January. It makes sense that in January, “health” would have looked like the one thing that doctors have been hammering my whole life: my weight. I didn’t even think to question it. Of course the two aren’t equivalent.

Assess where I am.

I’m in survival mode with my kids still. The months of complete inability made way for some really bad habits for everyone and, while my parenting is slowly improving, there’s a long way to go.

I wanted to be intentional about connecting with Andrew, but evenings were pretty low-energy. I rarely had anything intelligent to say or energy to do anything besides read or space out online.

My health goals make the least sense. Weight loss is so far down the list right now. I’m eating weird food (I’m on an elimination diet at my doctor’s direction) and I’m still tired and all those awesome muscles I got in January and February are gone.

Figure out where I can reasonably go.

Getting the kids sorted is going to take a lot of time and a lot of self-discipline, honestly. I have some tools that I’m trying to implement, but if there’s an available quick fix, I don’t know what it would be. But I have some goals for each of the kids and I’ll keep plodding.

Connecting with my husband is simple enough. We’re good friends; we just need to do stuff together. We busted out some games the other night, and it was good for my soul. (Also good for my soul? Rewatching The Office with him.)

I need to learn to eat again. I need to get strong again. I need to keep rest a priority.

And now I just walk in it. These goals are boring. Not even a little sexy. But they reflect my reality now.

A boring goal that fits my life is better than a fun one that only reflects wishful thinking.


Please tell me… What were your January goals? Are you walking toward them? Do you need to pivot a bit?

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Author: robininalaska

Clumsy Jesus Follower. Finder of grace. Mom to four babies here, one in heaven. Wife to one very good man. Writer of hope. Normalizer of failure.

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