Issue #28: New Year, Same Me
You don't need a new you.
Around January each year, the mantra “new year, new you” gets thrown around as if it’s a magical phrase that would change everything for the better. I’m all for that fresh-start feeling and reinvigorated hope of a new year, but this trite saying has always sounded terribly non-committal to me. It is absent of accountability and devoid of action. It causes the same mild irritation in me as “sorry, not sorry.”
I would rather embody “new year, same me.” Sure, we can always do the self-work to be more intentional with our living. It’s equally important to recognize that we did the best with the information and resources we had, and to extend ourselves some grace for the lessons learned.
Over the holidays, Eric and I accompanied my father to Kentucky in the US. His younger sister has been ill for a few years. With his advancing age and her health battles, we felt compelled to ensure they have an opportunity see each other while they can. I generally avoid travelling during peak periods; this departure from my norm underscores the importance of this visit. I was initially nervous — after all, I knew nothing about Kentucky and hadn’t seen my aunt’s family for over a decade. The last time our families connected, my aunt was attending my eldest sister’s wedding and her daughter was the flower girl. Our lives look different now.
While we waited for our outbound flight at the airport, I looked up information on “the bluegrass state.” If you have never been to Kentucky, let me be among the first to tell you it is very different than British Columbia. Having spent most of my life in Vancouver, I marveled at just how different Lexington was. An Anthony Bourdain quote comes to mind: “Travel is about the gorgeous feeling of teetering in the unknown.” From the remnant presidential election lawn signs to the myriad fraternity/sorority houses on my cousin’s university campus, from the lack of Chinese restaurants to the reverse sticker shock of real estate, I felt like Dorothy when she said, “I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
“Travel is about the gorgeous feeling of teetering in the unknown.”
- Anthony Bourdain
Between my aunt and uncle’s delicious home-cooked meals and my cousin’s fun city tours, we felt cherished in the way that is often only felt among family. We traded the “musts” on Lexington’s travel guide for a more intimate experience: through chats around the dining room table and in car rides, we softened the edges of that unfamiliar feeling with out-of-town family. I came away with a deep gratitude for the healthcare professionals who helped (and continue to help) my aunt manage her illness. I was moved to tears when I witnessed my uncle’s tireless devotion to his wife. Most of all, I am proud of my cousin for her tenacity to stay in school while her mom sought treatment. If “adversity is the crucible of the spirit,” Angela demonstrated resilience in spades. I did not have the same maturity in my early 20s. Despite the long and expensive flights, I am so glad we made the investment on this trip.
After we returned home, I experienced a long bout of insomnia. I couldn’t fall asleep at all and ran on fumes for almost a month. I couldn’t pinpoint the cause for it, so couldn’t address it effectively. Part way through the bout, Eric and I went to Revelstoke to visit one of my friends, Britt. She spends every winter skiing at Revelstoke Mountain Resort and hosting friends at her vacation home. If you are a winter outdoor sports enthusiast, Revy is well worth the 6.5-hour (potentially 7.5-hour) drive from Vancouver. Last year, Eric and I both snowboarded. A couple of months before our visit, Britt convinced us to switch to downhill skiing, citing its longevity as we age. Eric promptly signed us up for ski lessons at Cypress Mountain, a local mountain in North Vancouver, about an hour’s drive from our place. It was one of the venues of the 2010 Winter Olympics. For several weeks, we headed to Cypress after work to learn to ski with a handful of adults. I initially balked at the cost of lessons and ski rentals, but after the first couple of lessons, I began to enjoy it. We were quite proud of ourselves when our instructor reassigned us to a more advanced group! It turns out old dogs can learn new tricks after all.
To use a conclusory period to end this post, instead of wishing for “new year, new me,” I’d rather turn inward to the same me and continue to take steps toward my goals, with one ski in front of the other. Sometimes, I go down timidly with the tips of my skis crossing (rookie mistake). Other times, I catch an edge and tumble over my skis, face down. Still other times, I ski too fast toward the out-of-bounds area and inexplicably decide to use a tree to stop myself from going over the cliff. Not recommended, by the way! Every once in a while, my legs and arms work in perfect synchrony and I parallel ski like a pro down the mountain, breathing in the fresh air and feeling blessed for the opportunity to play in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Runner’s high, ski edition, unlocked.
