I could be talking about age. Or weight. But today, I'm talking about the year. 2012 is just a number. Just one more than 2011. I refuse to believe it's anything more than that.
Because if I heap a load of importance on the transition of one year into another, then I start getting overwhelmed with self-imposed "I should's," "I need to's" and "I must's." If the turning of the calendar is of real significance, then I start fretting about what I did or didn't do in 2011. I start becoming uneasy with what this new year might have in store for me.
I'm not sticking my head in the sand. Two days ago, I needed to stop eating so much and start exercising more. Two weeks ago, home organization was not one of my better qualities. Two months ago, I was challenged to look outside myself and towards others more often. And today, I still do.
But I'm not looking to make a major statement about goals and deadlines and resolutions just because I'll be writing a different date on my checks.
Call it denial. Call it stubbornness. I'll just call it a number and move ahead one day at a time.