Why failing your Word of the Year is OK
Despite the dumpster fire that many considered 2020 to be, I entered 2021 surprisingly upbeat. Looking back at my word for the year, you can tell that I’m optimistic about the months to come. I feel a little bit foolish when I read that previous post, but I think I was mostly naive. Naive to think that this was as bad as it was going to get, that more lockdowns wouldn’t descend on us, and that those lockdowns wouldn’t erode my small stores of resilience and motivation, leaving behind an empty and numb person-shaped husk. It wasn’t all bad though. Although I didn’t see my word through to December, there are still parts of that original word that helped me to focus on what I could control. As I reflected on last year’s word and everything that happened, it might be easy to feel like I failed, but I think this is where the power of writing down a goal is evident – the very act of writing it down and putting it somewhere visible can still influence your actions in a positive way.
For many of us, it feels like the pandemic has taken away our control or, at least, many of our options. No travel, stuck at home, limited interaction – if we were lucky, we became experts in existing in the spaces between bubbles and behind masks, connected largely by the internet. At the end of 2020, I felt like one of those experts, thriving at home and in my own company. I started the new year understanding that I had limited options, and felt relieved by that. In my post from last year, I mentioned that, instead of exacerbating my anxiety, 2020 settled it. ‘The source of the fear was known, tangible, unlike many of my usual worries. 2020 made the unexpected expected, the unplannable, ironically planned. I feel more ready to launch into a year with goals and expectations, maybe even because the stakes are visibly higher.’ Here is where I would like to insert a very patronising, ‘Oh, sweet baby child.’ I was writing sincerely, but I was naive to think that the pandemic would stay the same and that I would react the same way to it. 2021 would eventually highlight that naivety.
As the pandemic pendulum swung closer to ‘Bad’ and Auckland went into its longest lockdown, it became very apparent that I had underestimated how low I could be brought. Distracted and untethered, like many others, I lost sight of my goals. One thing I am eternally grateful for though is that naive but optimistic me set out to be practical in pursuing my word for the year. ‘Plant’ was a prompt to gather, prepare and sow seeds that might fruit in 2022. I decided to make it more actionable by breaking down ‘Plant’ into quarterly themes like, ‘Gather your materials’ and ‘Prepare the ground.’ In December, I learnt that we can’t manage time, only our energy, and while I had that energy at the beginning of 2021, I focused on gathering the things I needed to succeed, like the right tools and spaces. I couldn’t control whether people hired me for my illustrations or sent me commissions, but I could ensure that I was in the best possible environment for work to happen.
Words of the year, much like new year resolutions, can feel ineffectual or overly optimistic. Plenty of people abandon them once the motivation and shine has worn off. But I’m trying to think about it differently. As we enter 2022, I’m attempting to look at the year not as one linear line of time passing, but as ebbs and flows of energy. There will be times when I can do more and times when I can barely do the minimum, and I won’t know when the ebb or flow will come. As I mentioned, there is power in writing down your goals and putting it somewhere visible to you, so that when the energy comes, you can remember what’s important.
If you want to join me, that’s what I’m going to try this year – simply having the word, the theme for my year around to remind me of why I chose it and what it means to me. I know I’ll make small but important gains because of it and, instead of feeling like I didn’t see my Word through to the end of the year, I’ll notice the times that I carried it with me.
