I’m not one for resolutions. Two years ago, I shared how I was breaking away from the 365-day deadline and opting for more of a long-term perspective. And I still stand by that. But I can see the appeal in setting short-term goals that build towards the proverbial bigger picture. To help shed light on making resolutions that stick, here’s Dr. Sanam Hafeez, a NYC based licensed clinical psychologist. Read on for her expertise.
Today marks five years since I started this blog. And if I’m honest, I’ve been feeling a little lacking in inspiration lately.
The thing about resolutions is that I’m absolutely terrible at them. I don’t really get them. I rarely make them. And when I do, chances are I’ll forget about them in less than a week. So this year, I’ve decided to make long-term goals instead. Here’s what I’m planning for 2015 and beyond.
Today is Lucy’s 18 month milestone. And even as I’m typing this, I feel a lump in my throat and a knot in my stomach. But as she prepares to leave infancy behind, I, too, am doing my best to leave the heavy weight of Mom Guilt in the past.
A few months ago, after years of on-and-off yoga classes, I realized I needed a break in my day to, not only get some exercise, but also clear my head and find some inspiration. I then came across a YouTube channel called Yoga with Adriene and it’s been a daily practice since, something I’ve hardly ever been able to maintain before. From it, I realized there are quite a few simple but essential life lessons emerging from the mat. Here’s what I’ve learned from my daily practice.
I was looking back through my Instagram accounts, reflecting on the past year, and I realized that, despite becoming a new mom, I’ve been more active and motivated over the last twelve and a half months than I have in the past several years. And the reason is simple – I finally gave myself permission to be happy.
I celebrated my 34th birthday this weekend. A year ago, I was becoming a mom for the first time, something I thought would never happen. Not because I didn’t think I could handle it. But more because I didn’t think it was my “thing.” I was never the little girl pushing a baby stroller with her dolly in it. And I never went gaga for kids the way my friends did. When I hit my twenties and realized I didn’t coo at every passing infant the way other mommy-hopefuls did, I figured that wasn’t my path and I was OK with that. Combined with my hopes for a successful career, a love of tattoos, incurable wanderlust, and a mouth that curses a little too often, I was hardly anything close to the definition of motherhood. But then I met Lucy.
I’ve had an uncontrollable urge to clean recently. It’s been feeling a bit similar to the nesting phase I went through during my pregnancy, but spanning across all areas of my life. I spent the better part of my Sunday sifting through clothes and shoes, finding myself at the end of the process knee-deep in unnecessary clutter I’d accumulated over the years. Tops and dresses with tags still attached, shoes that had never been worn, and skirts with their pleats still intact all sat neatly piled in a bag on their way to find their new homes. It felt like I’d shed my own skin. And I’ve never felt lighter.
It’s been twenty-four weeks since Lucy was born. Twenty-four amazing weeks full of love, discovery, and adjustment. Twenty-four weeks throughout which I’ve learned that there is nothing as incredibly rewarding as being a mom. But I am tired. So, so incredibly tired. And after five months of non-interrupted mothering, give or take a few work opportunities and a couple of much-needed weekend getaways with my husband, I am struggling to find a balance between working, blogging, parenting, and rediscovering what it means to be me.
This is my first outfit post. Considering that I’m a “fashion blogger,” it’s almost laughable that it’s taken me three years to put myself in front of the camera. Most girls jump into this right away, with zero hesitation or hang-ups. And to them, I say, “Well done!” But I’m not like those girls.