I’m not sure it was the best way to start my year, saying “b*llocks to resolutions“. I suppose I was trying to give myself a break, not be so hard on myself – I was attempting to put a stop to the continuous “must do better” voice inside my head that manages to infiltrate every part of my life.
My shunning of resolutions was a bit of a middle finger, also, to the plague of positivity posts that appear every New Year – people telling other people how to become positive, how to be more positive, how to avoid other people who aren’t positive, how to stay positive, how to make lists of everything that is positive. Call me a grumpy old cow, but sometimes I quite like to wallow in a bit of self-pity whilst eating all of the orange, strawberry, fudge and purple ones out of a large tin of Quality Street. However – and I say this with a slightly sheepish look on my face – my “no resolutions, everything is fine the way it is” start to 2017 has backfired somewhat. I’ve never felt so demotivated! Perhaps it’s because I’m 36 weeks pregnant and can barely get out of a chair without a winching system in place, but I seriously cannot be bothered to do anything. My usual pizazz, which is always at a high ebb in January, is nowhere to be seen – my laptop has been stowed away in the tupperware cupboard (don’t ask) for over a week and my office is still strewn with bits of Christmas paper...