Saturday, January 3, 2015

Seeing The New Year Clearly: Embracing The Need To Hibernate

Anyone who has ever worn glasses or contact lenses knows that glorious feeling that comes with slipping on a new prescription. Suddenly, the world seems sharper, clearer, more in focus. It's not like you didn't see things before, but now colors are somehow more colorful, details more detailed. Everything looks fresh and new.

I've worn glasses since I was a child, and I was definitely not thrilled when I put on that first pair. I pouted all the way home and kept my four eyes pointed toward the ground. But when we got out of the car I do remember finally looking up, grabbing my dad's hand, and yelling, "So THAT'S what a tree looks like!"

I think that kind of clarity and energy is what we're supposed to experience each year on January first: a fresh start, a new perspective, a chance to see things/do things as we've never seen/done before. And every year, I feel an enormous amount of pressure to make it so, to find that clear vision, to the point that I've even started scheduling my annual eye exam for December 31st.

But it never seems to work.

Here's how New Year's typically goes for me: I spend much of the 31st brooding over the fact that Christmas, my favorite time of the year, is over, and the year is coming to a close. As the day goes on, I feel more and more like I am digging myself into a hole. Just as others are building their revelry up to a loud, roaring crescendo, I start to feel like I am shrinking down inside myself, becoming smaller and quieter (yes, me!).

On January 1st, I do not normally wake up feeling energized and ready to greet the New Year, but weary and ready to pull the covers back over my head. It's a feeling I have trouble shaking for several weeks, during which I beat myself up for those emotions, and try desperately to find ways to just snap out of it.

But not this time.

You see, 2014 was in many ways a very difficult year. In addition to the usual life stressors and the demands of keeping up with three kids and a career, more than half the year was spent in and out of hospitals, and much of it on bended knee in fervent prayer. And I wouldn't change a thing.

That's because while they might not have been the lesson plans I would have written for myself, 2014 did bring with it a long list of important things learned.

It was the year in which I grew closer to my family, to my friends, and to my faith.

Our Big Fat Egyptian Family 

The year in which I gained newfound respect for the human body- in both sickness and in health, it is a remarkable creation worthy of our utmost respect and care.

I took 3rd place in my age group in my first multi-sport race..out of 3. 

The year I embraced imperfection- in myself and others.

These pancakes were supposed to say something. They were still delicious. 

The year I learned to forgive myself and others.
There's hope for all of us. 
The year I really came to understand what it means to hold on tightly to what matters most, and to let go of the rest.

The 3 amigos. 

The year I figured out that it's OK to find moments of joy in the middle of painful times.

Her middle name is Joy for a reason. 

So with all that learning under my belt, in these early days of 2015 I'm giving myself the space to just BE.

Because this post-holiday coma- it’s more than simply being tired from the effort of serving as Santa's main elf and the cruise director of the good ship Family Fun. It’s deeper than the fatigue of too many long runs, late nights, Moscow Mules, and merriment.

I think it's more like a hibernation period for my soul.

After all, winter is a time of waiting, a restorative time, a time to rest. Looking out my window, it's clearly not a time when anything is expected to bloom- so why should I force that on myself? If you believe, as I do, that we plant seeds of hope, goals, and of dreams within ourselves, then this is the time for them to be covered, to be still, and to germinate. The lessons of the past year will become mulch for what lies ahead, but only if we're able to let them go.

People know me as always being on the go, up at the crack of dawn, racing around all day with a spunky personality and a peppy step. But this is me, too- sometimes, I go underground. In the past I've been my own harshest critic, thinking that this desire to root and rest is akin to laziness, or a lack of motivation.

But it isn't.

I think it's important that we honor every season in our lives, just as we do in nature. I think for the first time, I'm seeing things clearly. I've got the right prescription lenses, and everything is coming into focus.

So THAT'S what a happy new year looks like.

1 comment:

  1. Absolutely, Mona! Thanks for being vulnerable and writing this.