For the first time, the idea of New Year's resolutions bores me. I've carried them out for thirty-something years, and if there are any self-improvement projects outstanding, I'm willing to accept that this is as good as I get. This cyclical reinventing is tiring me out.
This year, I'm going to own what I already have.
I'm going to own having four kids; no more whispering Three was actually the perfect number! to onlookers. I'm going to own being a family physician at the refugee clinic. No teasing myself with ads for R3 residency positions this year, and no peeking at the eye-popping figures some of my medical school classmates bring in.
Also to be owned in 2014: this weathered house on stilts on the cliffs of Deep Cove, including wobbly walkway pavers and yellowing bathroom linoleum; a body that's borne four kids and carries me around without complaint, ever; a face with ever-darkening under eye smudges that still laughs every day with kids and patients.
Let's include living in Vancouver, vibrant and gorgeous, despite property costs that make me sweat when I see what proportion of the mortgage payments went to interest. And friends, whom I don't keep up with enough - I'm going to own them, too. And family: my grandparents in their little New Westminster condo, my sisters who got the good hair in the family, in-laws and nieces - they're mine for life, and I'm going to own them.
All the unfortunate things I will do in 2014? They're mine. Any irritability, ridiculously late email replies, or impatience when you question immunization - I take responsibility. Any good ideas, generosity, incredible diagnoses? Also mine.
So yeah. Even without resolutions, I think I've got a lot to work with. Funny how even better than dreaming is recognizing the parts of your life that you'd dream for if they weren't already yours.
Happy 2014. Own it.
Once upon a beast 2014 Calendar by Hillary Kupish.