The dazzle of the stage lights gave everything a surreal, fairy-tale feeling. The music struck up and the tutu-clad girls on stage launched into their routine. We’d practised and planned and enthused for weeks about the spectacular show we’d put on that night; the moves were carefully choreographed and smiles were plastered on the faces of all the girls on that stage… All, that was, except mine. I was standing in the wings, paralysed by the weight of fear and expectation as my five year old counterparts tapped and twirled to the delight of their gushing audience.
That’s kind of how I feel today. Swept along by ‘New Year, New You’ mania on social media and gently prodded (literally, and not so gently) by the ever-tighter waistband of my jeans, I’ve devised a whole list of plans and goals for this year. There are so many things I want to achieve before 2015 is out, personally and professionally: I want to build a successful business (when I say “successful”, I mean “something that earns more than nothing”). I want to lose weight, and have a baby (contradiction, much?). I want to be a better mum, a better partner and an all-round better person. I want to survive the things that I know life is going to throw at me this year – divorce, transition, and a new hair colour. Oh, and above all that, I want to help the people around me achieve their goals too. EASY.
So yeah, it’s standing room only on my To Do list. Plus I sort of forgot that leaving 2014 behind didn’t mean leaving all its stuff behind: there’s no clean slate today. All the stuff I was dealing with last week still exists, it didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke when we popped the champagne cork at midnight on New Year’s Eve (who do I speak to about that?) That’s why I found myself this morning standing in the wings of 2015’s stage and suddenly have a massive attack of The Fear. How on earth am I going to do it all? Frankly I’ve got no idea how I’m going to survive this day without a bacon sandwich, a Galaxy and a glass of wine, never mind the 360 days that follow. I don’t even know if I’m capable of starting a business never mind make a success of it, and you can’t order babies from Just Eat (mmmmmm… Just Eat). All of that stuff is going to need patience, courage and determination, and I’m not sure I’m up to the job. I’m wearing my proverbial tutu and tap shoes, but I’m not sure if I can remember the moves.
I’m flipping the bird at “New Year, New You”, because I’m the same old me and this year won’t be new for long (although can we talk about how long it’s acceptable to continue saying “Happy New Year” before it’s just awkward and weird?) This is the part where I was going to write about what I’ll do instead, but I haven’t actually worked it out yet. I guess the best bet is to keep my eye on my goals, do the best I can and try to enjoy the journey without being too hard on myself. Oh, and keep a stash of Secret Chocolate in my desk drawer for emergencies, because no-one’s perfect…