New Year’s, I generally eschew resolutions. There’s so often more an excuse to pretend we can solve every problem we have in two and half weeks, or maybe just another opportunity to feel bad about ourselves. It’s usually a better idea to make changes day-to-day, as you see the need. While there’s perhaps some value in the ritualization or symbolic significance of new year/new you thing, still… We’re usually not reasonable or kind with ourselves that way.
But this year, I did make a resolution: I am getting rid of all the holey socks.
I’m pretty frugal. Maybe from growing up in a family that sometimes had little, lean times raising kids in our 20’s, or just a practical nature, I don’t know. But I have socks. With holes. Too many. And when I run across one of these holey socks, what had I traditionally done?
Why, wear them, of course! Sometimes two pair, or teamed up with some slippers, to make up for the holes. And afterward? I take them off and put them in the laundry and wash the damn things again. And each time I end up with one of ’em after a sock search, I am surprised and disappointed all over again. But I put them on anyway.
It’s as if I somehow expect the socks to magically heal in the drawer. I try to avoid it, ignore it, put it off and forget about it instead of just throwing the stupid socks out.
Uh oh. How many times do I avoid, ignore, cobble up or otherwise deny what is not working in my life? Because it’s easier “not to think about that right now?”
I’m done putting on holey socks. When I notice anything in my life isn’t serving it’s function, when I see something isn’t working with my life, it’s done.
That’s hard sometimes. Sometimes your favorite socks wear out. Sometimes, it’s just time to change socks. You outgrow the old ones, and they don’t fit anymore. You may still have an emotional attachment, but it doesn’t change the facts, man.
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