Hit or Miss?

 I’ve never been one for making New Year's resolutions. It could be the rebel in me, the part that doesn't like being told what to do. Or maybe it's because my generation came up during the boom of the self-help movement. Friends, feelings, finances, fitness - begin again and be better. Perhaps that deluge of books diminished the import of January 1 as the day for resolve. These days, I'm more attuned to the complexities of choice and change.

​Last year, around this time, Isaiah 48:6-7, a passage that talked about making things new, became my 2025 focus. The translation offered an angle I hadn't noticed before. These new things... hidden and unknown... were created just now, this very moment. And, what's more, the scripture went on, of these things you have heard nothing until now, so that you cannot say, Oh yes, I knew this. I liked the authority conveyed in the lines, the way the speaker spoke to the audience's wiseacre nature. A know-it-all - that can be me.

​Our move in July from the home we lived in for 47 years was indeed a new thing, hidden and unknown to us. We hadn't premeditated moving, but then in three weeks, bam, everything fell into place. We found our new home and were out the door and plunked brand-spanking into the new: new address, new neighbors, new streets to walk, new walls upon which to place art and furniture, new everything. For sure, there was a readiness and a rightness, but six months later, I'm still in disbelief over how the whole thing unfolded, and questions hang regarding what's next.

​If saying yes to the new was last year's aim, in 2026, I'm saying no to the familiar and focusing on things not to do. Not to drink so much. Not to eat so much sugar. Not to lose myself on the internet watching reels. In short, I decided to take a break, including my NYT games. I was still on vacation during the first week of January, so I'm only about three weeks into the project, but I'm understating it when I say that imposing these new subtractions has been eye-opening.

​In the beginning, necessity spurred me on. Typically, I'm a disciplined eater, but during the holiday revelry, I go a little crazy. Desserts, eggnog, chocolate in countless forms, and lots of wine. This year, I was slightly aghast at myself as I chowed down on congo bars as if they were celery. By the end of the holidays, too much feasting ushered me into an imposed famine. It was time for a Dry January.

​At first, it was pretty easy. Excess gave way to limit, and I was ready for a change. I replaced cookies with kiwis and flavored seltzers for wine. Instead of constant screen use, I balled up some wool and started knitting again. These days, I have more time to write, walk, and read. My daughter gave me a trash picker, and I've gone out a few times to tidy up our city street.

​There are downsides, though, and where I am going with this reset remains unclear. I was so pleased with myself in the beginning; now I'm pretty miserable. I find I'm tired at the end of the day, but wired. I had no idea that a known side effect of a Dry January can be sleep disturbance. And, it turns out that changes in sleep quality from sugar withdrawal can linger for weeks. All of my reward pathways are busy adjusting, and with fewer calories, I feel underfueled.

​Is my exercise in willpower going to cave to my body's demands?

Once again, I come to terms with me - the naive, know-it-all. Long ago in my English classroom, my student, John Kurcis, wisely observed, Not all great things are meant to make you happy. Just as our move was right, quick, and still full of discomfort, so is this current project.

I'm not happy now, and I've got another week. Like our move, this experience still holds merit. My saying no to the familiar feels like a gracious challenge into something unknown, but somehow promising. Will I abandon the project or find a way through and adapt?

​I don't have an answer right now, but -ugh - I do know I need a nap.