New Year, Same Shit.

New Year New Me or Same Shit

Every year, before the clock strikes midnight, we do the same ‘ol things.

Pucker up for a midnight kiss.

Create New Year's resolutions.

Reflect on who we are and who we should be.

I hate reflection.

There I said it-- maybe you too were thinking it.

All the pondering, evaluation, and then urge to adjust as necessary makes me want to vomit.

I like myself, as is.

Flaws and all.

Or maybe that is only half of the narrative and there’s things I’d like to change, but I don’t have the patience to commit.

I’m a hard worker by nature. And when I say that, I’m like naturally I’ve always had to work hard.

I’ve been a mom since a month after I turned 18 then added 2 more to my gang before I was 24. Then I spent a majority of my adult life parenting kiddos and teaching on my own. That left little room for slack shit.

That leads to me work work working.

Which is where all of my goals always lie.

Which means my goals are always met.

Because I set goals directly connected to education, degrees, and business.

Things I master with my eyes closed. Blindfolded. Hands tied.

But Lordt. Reflection in the area of who I am, like who I really am. That’s something I never quite enjoy tackling.

And yeah. You’re reading this like omg Ty you’re crazy, you’re so sweet and kind!

But how well do you really know me?

I struggle with things just like every other person. And there’s certainly things that I need to flush out of my system to make for happier version of myself.

Living in fullness is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. Like it keeps me up at night.

Am I my fullest version of myself?

And I would say no.

There’s portions of me that are washed down and flushed out because you know, stepping out as the most authentic version of yourself is daunting.

I’m not worried that people won’t like me. I don’t really care about being liked.

It’s that I’m still evolving and discovering myself.

You know when we are in our twenties, everything is all fun and games. I thought I knew who I was; I suppose it was a nice skeletal outline of who I thought I wanted to be.

Now in my thirties, as I am filling those bones with veins and organs and a heartbeat-- I want it to be every bit authentically tailored to me.

I am filled with generosity. I love to give. I overtip. I love buying random little gifts. I baby my students when I can.

I like to laugh. Even if that’s at the expense of others feelings. Like not really hurting people, but even if you are shame up… I cannot control the laughs.

I will be a listening ear, but I let those I love navigate their own waters. If there is anything that I’ve learned; people are going to do what they want. I see all the rant and rave of people being the advice giving friend, the blunt friend, the keeping it real friend.

I am the supportive friend. I offer my full support in what those I love say they desire, even if it isn’t necessarily what I think is best.

And to be honest, I expect the same from those who love me.

If I know anything about myself, it’s that you can’t tell me nothing. And if you decided you wanted to, I wouldn’t listen anyways.

Opinions and input are great, but only when they are asked for, ya know?

These are tidbits of what I think make me up. But what else?

That’s the part I’m still working on. The what else. The who else.

I suppose that’s why the New Year, New Me shit isn’t so fun.

Because I’m still piecing together the puzzle.

I’ll let you know when I know.

Who are you? Who are becoming? What are you discovering?

That’s where the resolution should lie, my friends.

Hugs, Love, and Lots of Kisses,

XoXo.

Cheers,

Ty Tiger | Kinda Sorta Teacher