I have a lot of goals and hopes for 2022.
In comparison to 2021, I think most things would seem like an improvement from that crazy year. It was a year that felt simultaneously too fast and too slow — a year in which I spent a lot of time learning new things about myself. On New Year’s Eve, I, along with the rest of the world, thought of new beginnings and changes for the better — for both the world’s situation, and myself.
But two months into 2022, the omicron variant is still persisting — and all the “new me” resolutions I made have either been broken or not even begun. I spent January wondering about how that new year spark could have fizzled out so fast. My anxiety and frustrations were consistent, if not worse, and 2022 felt like a scam. I wanted it to end as soon as it had started.
My first lesson of the year came into focus with a cake. After a tough fall semester, I was reluctant for the new semester to start. In the last week before my winter break was over, my mom came home with a full-sized cake. With no occasion, the cake was the highlight of my week.
My mom was entirely amused with how excited it made me, and that was when I created a late New Year’s resolution — to focus on the small things that make me happy.
I felt lucky that there were so many simple things that brought me pleasure throughout my day. Like discovering the Duolingo owl TikToks. Finding out my favorite childhood book was becoming a movie. Finding a new YouTuber and watching all their videos. Seeing the sun on a snowy day. Going on a perfect drive with the perfect music.
On the not-so-good days, it is so important to have things that remind us that bad days are bad, but they’re also just days. And days always come to an end.
Lesson two manifested itself at the end of January — during that dark time after the holiday season was over and when none of my New Year’s resolutions seemed realistic anymore. But I had a change in perspective that I felt was important.
I had a list of things I wanted to be in 2022. Healthier. Fitter. More efficient. Better at time management. This was also the year I promised myself that I would finally figure out my dream job. I was consistently asking myself if I was studying to become a speech pathologist because I really wanted to be one.
Like I do every year, I thought I would see a difference in the first month, whether that be in my body or my work. Having these heavy goals, however, made me feel more like a failure. As a senior in high school, deciding what I wanted to be was hard because it felt like too big of a commitment. At 19, a sophomore in college, I’m still unsure what exactly I’m studying for.
And then I changed my future from nouns to verbs. Instead of wanting to become a speech pathologist, I wanted to work with children. I wanted to work in a collaborative setting. I wanted to make a difference, no matter how small. Instead of becoming a healthy, fit, efficient version of myself, I wanted to get in the habit of eating breakfast every day. I wanted to try and find an organization method that worked for me. I wanted to fall in love with life. Goals and dreams should align with achievable methods and true desires. Results could come later. Failing should be something that could be reset the next day. A visible change, a job … those can all come later.
2022 would be the year of verbs above nouns.
And lastly, in the beginning of February, I realized that we make time. Time is a construct! A new year feels like a big resetting point only because we make it one. The idea that every day could be a new year puts the pressure off of daily success and reminds me that I can change whenever I want if I put my mind to it. Two months into 2022, I’ve learned a lot. I’m one step closer to committing to speech pathology. I’ve decided I want to learn to play the drums and learn French. I like to have cake on bad days.
By March, who knows what new version of myself I’ll be?
