I didn't accomplish any of my goals for 2022
Wins, wounds, and getting honest about the challenges of this year
I was cleaning around my office a few weeks ago when I stumbled across a piece of paper titled Goals for 2022. While new year’s resolutions have never really been my style, I’ve been partial to goal setting because there’s something exciting about setting intentions for growth, change, and progress with the start of a new calendar.
As I reviewed this list that somehow found its way to the bottom of my desk drawer, I chuckled to myself as I realized that I had not accomplished not a single goal on the list. Seriously, not even one. I’d listed creative goals, family goals, and work goals. Somehow I managed to completely miss every single mark I set for myself.
Hilarious.
Years ago, this would have felt like a shame-inducing spiral of failure. There’s so much pressure to view life as a linear path towards bigger, better, and more. Annual goal setting is a big part of the process. I’ve been addicted to linear growth in the past and goal setting has helped me climb some of the ladders I’ve found valuable. But something about looking at this list of all the things I thought I wanted but didn’t achieve led me to ask, How do I measure this year, if not in tasks accomplished and goals achieved?
How do any of us measure what makes for time well spent and a life well lived?
Obviously, I’m not the first to ask this question.
Yesterday, I kicked off a month-long sabbatical.
One of my hopes for this time is to make room to reflect on my year, looking for any wisdom or insights that might inform how I’ll live going into the future. When I sat down to journal about this, the question that found me was a simple one:
Bethaney, how was your year?
I was caught off guard by how emotional this question made me feel. I hadn’t really thought about it. In the fullness of daily life, of simply tending to the needs and projects right in front of me, it’s been some time since I paused to ask myself, “Well, how’s it going for you?”
Underneath this question, I wrote two columns in my notebook: wins and wounds. I love some alliteration, and it felt appropriate to reflect on the year with these two words in mind.
Where have you won this year? What wounds are you carrying from this year?
As I started filling out both columns, the wounds column began to pick up a lot of steam. I had line after line of heartaches and griefs, all aggregated from that past twelve months or so. While I've been aware of some tough days and trying situations, this was my first time seeing the aches so clearly. It has been a hard year for me.
Even now, it’s strange to admit it. I don’t know why, fully. I guess, on some level, getting most of what you’ve dreamed of and longed for is supposed to make you happy. It’s supposed to make all of the problems go away. But as I’m honest with myself, and perhaps even with God, I realized that, “Dang, this year hasn’t been an easy one. It’s been really hard. Even getting a lot of what I’ve wanted hasn't actually made me happier.”
What I love about journaling is that with time, it becomes easier to have these moments of raw honesty. When we’re moving fast and getting things done, it’s simple to go on autopilot and pretend. But slowing down, asking yourself good questions, and putting pen to paper to write it all out can create a confrontation with reality.
As I sat with my new found perspective on how hard this year has been, I realized I had a few options for how to process it.
Option 1: To keep pretending. I’m pretty good at putting on a happy face and moving forward as if nothing is wrong. This is never a long-term solution, of course. But it is an option. Admittedly, I’ve probably leaned into this option a lot this year.
Option 2: To fix it. Perfectionism and cultural pressure to always be improving/healing/saving-the-day can turn our lives into little projects where we’re constantly seeing ourselves as problems to solve. While I value healing and growth, I’m wary of looking at life like it’s one big math equation. Plug in a little therapy here, a little prayer there, and splash of perfect community and voilà! No more problems. Yes, its been a hard year, but does this mean I need to “fix” something or does it mean I’m just a human living a messy, imperfect, often beautiful, often painful life?
Option 3: To obsess over it. Wallowing in despair is also an option. I find that obsessing about all that hasn’t gone right is just as unhelpful as pretending like nothing has gone wrong. Why? Because even in this really tough year, there have been spots of immense beauty, connection, and joy—even if just on the edge of things. To conclude that life is all good or all bad just seems inaccurate. Of course, our brains are wired for a bit of negativity bias, which creates a proclivity to dwell on the painful bits of life. But wallowing in despair has its limits. Despair is not the whole story.
Option 4: To accept it, while looking towards the future with hope. This is the option I’ve been leaning into, at least for the past day or so. Yes, it’s been a hard year. Yes, there are likely areas of my life that need improving and change. Yes, the pains and losses have been real. Yes, there have been bright spots too. Yes, I believe in the possibility of coming goodness and joy. It is what it is. And being present to the messy, agonizing, beauty of all this year has been and has not been, is enough.
For today, at least, it’s enough.
How do you measure a year?
Wins and wounds? Ups and downs? Joys and heartaches?
If we’re honest, I bet we’ll find its all there. Every bit of it. What might it look like to make room for the truth of how this year has been for you?
Would love to read your thoughts, questions, and reflections in the comments below.
Much love, Beloveds.
Bethaney
I honestly don’t usually take much time to reflect on the year at years’ end. Our annual recap Christmas letter has seemed sufficient in the past. We hit on all of the “whats”, the “wheres”, the “whos”. That’s probably what our recipients expect, and I certainly value those memories. But now you’ve got me thinking, Bethaney: what about the “whys”? You inspired me to take time to reflect on this year’s emotional growth before moving on to planning the upcoming year.
I have always valued the opportunity to reflect on, and outline, personal focuses by establishing New Year Resolutions. Sometimes I stick to them, sometimes I forget them altogether, like your list in the bottom of your drawer. But even after a difficult year, I also think there is important growth that happens with unanticipated accomplishments that come up organically as the year progresses that should not be overlooked. The year can be measured just as much by those accomplishments as with following through on a New Year Resolution.
As a society, we’re more and more programmed to feel like we need to succeed, find the answer, now. If we don’t know something, all we have to do is pull out our phone and Google it. While this can come in so handy (of course), we also lose our ability to be content with not knowing the answers. We put so much pressure on ourselves to figure things out, get better— that linear growth you talk about. To quote Carrie Bradshaw, “ I couldn’t help but wonder…..”: in 2023, can I practice more reflection, learn to sit with feelings of unknowing? Can we find space and maybe comfort within that feeling? Prioritize: what needs to be solved, answered and what can be left unanswered?
Thank you so much for your honest and insightful posts! You’ve got my wheels turning:)
Sincerely, Meridy