New Year's Resolutions - it doesn't have to be hell!

 

Every New Year, like around 14.5 million people in the UK (according to thinkmoney.co.uk), I make at least one resolution. Usually it’s along the lines of ‘I will look after myself more’, or ‘I will be kinder to myself’, or ‘I will eat better’, or (last years) ‘I will go to the gym twice a week and Pilates once a week’.

Like everyone else, I start with the best of intentions: I buy all the necessary kit, trainers and outfits and then I write my blog telling everyone how I’m going to achieve this (I do this in a vague hope that making myself enough guilt to that I stick to said resolution).

Obligatory sweaty gym selfie

Unfortunately this is where the similarity with four out of five people ends.  The reason being is that I am the one out five people in the UK that has a mental health issue, making my reaction to resolution failure different.

Most folks will find a ‘reason’ for not having stuck to their resolution; they accept this, hang up their trainers and forget their pledge to run a marathon.  Me? No such luck!

Suffering from both depression and anxiety, I get torn in two different directions. I feel like my very own ‘Stretch Armstrong’ doll in my head!

Take 2016 for example: I joined the gym to improve my

strength and get a bit fitter. I’d stuck at it quite well until about March, when I had my first ‘waiver’. I felt down (depression) so I didn’t want to do anything – let alone roll up to the gym after a busy working day. Then I felt nervous guilt (anxiety) for not going, which in turn made me even more low (depression) for letting myself and my ‘goal’ down. This in turn led to more guilt (anxiety), that I was letting down the people who had encouraged me when I set myself the resolution. And so the cycle continued… until I felt that I’d failed. ‘You couldn’t even keep a simple resolution, Charlotte’. It’s not perfect and so I’m useless!

 

But that’s just it: I’ve realised – finally, after 18 years - I’m not useless. I just have a different approach to making a resolution. Sometimes ‘perfect’ doesn’t have to be the goal; sometime ‘just enough’ is good enough.

My needs are as big as Charlie Brown's

It’s not easy, but of the 14.5 million people that make resolutions, at least 2.9 million of them are likely to have some form of mental health issue. That means that I’m not alone. There are lots of us out there who have this vicious cycle in our heads.

 

Myself and the Miss British Beauty Curve girls in Regents Park

Upshot: Did I join the gym? Yes. Did I go more than three times a month? Yes. Did I take part in the British Heart Foundation Regents Park Run? Yes. Therefore, was I doing more than I was in 2015? Answer: Yes.

 

Ergo: I achieved ‘just enough’ of my resolution to make a difference. Sure it’s not ‘perfect’, but it’s a change and in the end, that’s good enough.

 

 

Like Tracey Turnblad, I can't conform to 'The man'.

Last December, I received confirmation that I had been accepted into Miss World Natural Beauty as a finalist and, once again, to Miss British Beauty Curve. I was over the moon and so keen to do well that I began to think about what makes a pageant queen - looks-wise.

Don't get me wrong: I know as well as anyone anyone else that there is more to a queenly title than the aesthetic. I do already try to be kind, charitable, supportive and compassionate in everyday life, which I believe is what a queen is all about. But I wondered what a queen looked like.

I read lots of articles on winning dress colour, make-up techniques, etc... but the overriding thing that I took away is that they all have flowing locks. Masses of beautiful, long hair. Straight, wavy or curly; black, brown, red or blonde - no matter; it's always long and there's always tonnes of it.

Well, that's that says I one dreary December day; I'm going to have to grow my hair again. And so the past few months have been spent conditioning, trimming and generally preening my hair in a bid to get it long again. The result- something that I was deeply unhappy with.

Why? Because it finally dawned on me: I was conforming to 'The Man'. You know, that mythical being that we all charge with being enforcer of the 'norm'. For me, winners had long hair - end of.

Problem is that this meant betraying who I am. I am a person who likes my hair I short to mid length vintage styles - I don't suit long, flowing hair. I like being an individual. And besides which - I got accepted onto each pageant, by pageant directors who were fully aware of my cropped barnet!

If they could accept me into their pageants, knowing that I don't fit the 'pageant winner' norm; then I could learn to accept that maybe, just maybe, sometimes a winner can have short-er hair.