Well, I guess it’s a new year.
Not that I really think there’s any difference between one year or another, but let’s not get into my acidic vitriolic hate for pointless holidays. That’s another blog post for another time. Right now I guess I just wanted to say that it’s a new year and nothing is different. People approach the new year with this sense of invigoration. This sense of ‘I’m going to conquer the world’ and they come up with a list of shit they could honestly have done at any point in time, last year, this coming year or 5 years from now, as achievements mean nothing in the frame of time, and they think this year…this will be the year it all gets better.
I don’t want to shit on anyone’s hamburger, but it doesn’t. I’m sick. I’m mentally challenged. Guess what. Those things don’t go away over time. Even if my ‘resolution’ was to do better this year, in terms of being sick or mentally challenged, come January 1st 2018, I’d still be sick and mentally challenged. Not saying it’s pointless to try and better ones self, and I’m not necessarily sold on the whole ‘accept yourself as you are’ belief system either. I don’t really know where I stand, honestly. I just know that I’m sick, and now I’m sick of this.
With this in mind, I think the argument I’m trying to make is don’t wait until some arbitrary day to suddenly decide to get your shit together or better something. Try every single day. I fight with myself, about myself, every single day. It’s tiring, it’s exhausting, it’s frustrating but I’m not going to turn my progress into a game of some kind, give myself a deadline of some sort, to get better. And just to be clear, I’m not putting down people who do this sort of thing. I’m just saying I’m not one of those people. I’m going to work on myself at all times, 365 days, 24/7. Especially since there’s no end to getting better. I’ll never reach a moment when I look in the mirror and go, “You know what, I think that’s good enough. I think I’m not autistic anymore. I think I’ll be ok. I’m no longer mentally ill. Let’s go shopping now.”
That doesn’t happen. There’s no end to betterment. There’s no peak. Climbing a mountain, reading a book, shooting a film. These have endings. These have a finite point where you stop and it’s over and you move onto the next thing. Mental health doesn’t work that way. You don’t stop being sick. You’re always going to be sick. You just keep learning how to work within the confines of your illness, forever, every year, resolutions be damned.
TLDR; fuck new years, better yourself forever.