In my last post, I shared why it’s important to review life before we make any resolutions to change it, and two ways to approach that review, with the very important caveat that it’s essential to consider whether or not this is a good season of life in which to begin this process.
That first review stage was just about gathering data: what worked, and what didn’t? What did I do or not do in the areas that I consider important?
Now, we’re moving into a bit of analysis.
Why did things that worked, work? And why did the things that didn’t work, not work? Why did I actually do some things, and not others?
Did it have to do with the thing itself? My attitude towards it? The planning I did for it? Circumstances beyond my control?
Whether I want things to stay the same, get better, or change completely, I have to figure out why things happened as they did.
(This isn’t an excuse-making exercise or a blame game; it’s not an in-depth psycho-analysis of childhood; it’s just a common sense facing of reality as it is.)
Analysis in Action
Here are a couple of examples:
Let’s say I wanted to learn to cook more last year, but I didn’t. Was it because:
“Cooking” was too vague and I should have specified that I wanted to learn to cook more pizzas, or cook more ‘fancy’ foods, or cook meals in 30 minutes or less?
I actually didn’t want to learn to cook: what I really wanted was dinner to be easier or even off my plate completely? (Pun intended ;)
I never set aside time regularly to read a cookbook, watch an instructional video, or ask a friend to teach me?
My husband lost his job and I had to work overtime to make ends meet, so there was no extra time?
Let’s say that I wanted to learn to grow fresh herbs in my kitchen, and I did. Was it because:
I love herbs and didn’t care what kind I grew, as long as I could grow something?
When one of them died, I didn’t beat myself up, but did some research, made some adjustments, and tried again?
I made a monthly trip to the nursery to buy new plants, soil, and pots, and made a point of chatting with the head gardener every time?
I randomly started with hardy plants and also have ideal lighting in my kitchen window, making it easy to be successful?
Now is the time to get out your review list and make some notes about the whys behind what’s there (or not there). Be as honest, realistic, and specific as you can be.
(Use the “why” column on your worksheets from yesterday.)
If you realize that you didn’t actually want to learn to cook, you just want dinner to be easier, write that down.1
If you notice that you did do a lot of learning, but in a more informal (chat to the head gardener) rather than formal (classes and books) way, write that down.
If you see that the reason you have a blank space next to most of the things you wanted to do was because you were so tired all the time, write that down.
You may not have answers for everything; that’s ok! Sometimes the whys are elusive. Try talking with someone who knows you and loves you and doesn’t always tell you exactly what you want to hear: they may be able to help you sort things out. Or, if you struggle to be honest with yourself, could it be tied to one of these four reasons? Or, are there circumstances which were genuinely out of your control? As always, don’t forget to pray about these things. Ask God to help you see yourself clearly, in love, with His eyes.
In the next post, we’ll begin to look at setting goals for next year - getting clarity on what you actually want to resolve.
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The whole series:
Part 1 : “Before Making Any New Year’s Resolutions, Do This” (Free for everyone, including downloadable worksheets)
Part 2: “Why Things Work (or Don’t)” (Free for everyone)
Part 3: “Setting Goals for Our (Actual) Selves” (Free for everyone)
Part 4: “Find Your Method: Six Things to Consider” (For paid subscribers, with an audio recording)
Part 5: “Figure Out When” (For paid subscribers)
If you’re anything like me, sometimes these reviews can lead to a temptation towards existential crisis. “I’ve said I would learn to cook for the last 3 years! But I hate it! I’m so tired by dinner time I can’t possibly try to learn a new recipe! I’m a terrible, lazy person who just needs some self-discipline!”
Don’t give into the catastrophizing. There’s no moral obligation to learn to cook. You aren’t automatically inherently lazy or a selfish person because you don’t like cooking. [If you secretly want your family to starve, that’s a different story - but it’s probably not yours.] There are plenty of ways to feed yourself and your family that don’t have to involve you learning to cook in the classical sense.
Oh gosh. Yes, the moral catastrophizing is such a strong and automatic temptation for many of us. I have to constantly remind myself that "[fill in the blank] is not a moral issue!"
"You aren’t automatically inherently lazy or a selfish person because you don’t like cooking."