Resolute.

For the last twenty years, I have approached my birthday a little differently, thanks to a friend of mine suggesting that resolutions we make on our birthdays are more personal and focused than ones we’d make at the beginning of the year.

It’s a concept that I took and ran with by assigning a theme to the year, rather than the same, tired goals everyone seems to prattle off year after year without making any real progress to accomplishing them. To me, assigning a theme made goals more tangible and attainable. I could stack up even small victories in the “win” column even if I couldn’t strike through The Big Goal as accomplished.

For example, as a big person, (fat, overweight, fluffy, obese – pick your adjective,) one of the consistent goals year after year was to Lose Weight. It remained this aloof daydream to spend one whole year kicking my own ass into gear and losing this pesky weight so that I’m no longer big, fat, overweight, fluffy or obese. And no matter what diet or exercise plan fizzled by the end of each subsequent January, nothing Big changed to facilitate Big Change. Mindsets remained steadfast because old habits didn’t die hard. They didn’t die at all. And year after year I maintained the same status quo as the years before.

Coincidentally, each year I became bigger, fatter, fluffier et al. My attempts at self-improvement tanked annually, as did my own self-respect. There was no grace for the process and how difficult it would be. I consider myself strong and capable, if I can’t make the Big Goal happen, then something, inherently, is wrong with me.

The only resolution I could count on was that I’d have another failure to add to the list, with all the self-hatred that goes along with it.

In 2004, I opted to change the goal from the old standby “Lose Weight,” which, ironically was a year I lost the most weight of my life, to “The Year of Courage.” From November 2004 to November 2005, I focused on doing those things that frightened me to stretch myself and grow and improve. I was able to put even the smallest wins in the Accomplishments column, which coincidentally made me feel better about myself, more empowered to make chances and more accomplished as a result.

It's been a process I’ve repeated in the two decades since. I’ve been fortunate enough to see a great many dreams come true, even amidst great struggles… including defeating cancer. (The year after my diagnosis was dubbed the Year of the Phoenix. I’m happy to report that the Phoenix did, in fact, rise.)

I’ve been doing this so long that the biggest challenge is finding new “themes” every year to help me grow. Last year was the Year of the Butterfly, giving me encouragement (nay, permission) to shine in a world that would rather I just stay cocooned.

So, where does one go from there?

After much soul-searching, I have decided that this new year will be The Year of Self-Love, because after the last 20 years, that is something that is still missing.

Part of it is social conditioning. Part of it is leftover dogmatic doctrines from a strict religious upbringing.  Part of it is my own trauma responses. All of it is what may be holding me back from living the larger life that has danced right beyond my fingertips my entire existence… and why those Big Goals are still unattained.

In order to Thrive in 2025, I need to show myself more love and more grace, and, from there, create boundaries around myself to ensure those around me do the same. The Martyr life I was raised from the crib to live, assigned by “God” and society to come second to everyone else as a servant and support only, never fit, binding my soul in constraints without my consent. Now more than ever, consent is a thing. How can I say I matter in the Universe if I give away that one basic tenant of self-respect?

Furthermore, how can anyone say they hold respect for me if they want to trample over that consent?

This is something that will require boundary-setting, which is a huge challenge for me. I don’t know how to put up boundaries when all my life I’ve just put up walls to keep myself safe. Isolation was easier than negotiation, especially if you’re still learning that you can still be a kind person without giving every last bit of yourself away to other people who may or may not refill your cup.

And let’s be honest, other people aren’t focusing their life on refilling that cup – nor should they.

I heard once that the people that hurt us often don’t mean to hurt us at all. They’re doing what is right for them in that moment, and often the worst crime they commit is that they don’t think about us at all in their pursuit of happiness/fulfillment.

And it’s not selfish of them to do that. It is normal and human for them to do that. It’s even healthy for them to do that. It is martyrdom that is unrealistic, unhealthy and manipulative. The biggest lie of the Martyr life is if I give my all to you, you will love me so much you’ll give me the love and respect I’m not showing myself. I outsource my value to you in hopes you’ll be so grateful for my sacrifices that you’ll value me more. Instead, the inevitable imbalance rips a hole so deep no outside source can ever fill it.

The bigger truth is that people can only love you as much as you love yourself. You teach someone how to treat you, and if you’re teaching them that their lives, their feelings, their happiness, means more than yours does, then it should come as no shock whenever they put their needs and desires first.

Socially speaking, especially coming from a more traditional or religious upbringing, the Purpose of the Woman is to empty her vessel for the benefit of the world around her. She is as valuable as what she produces (children) and what she gives to her family (everything) and how selflessly she approaches society around her. Any steps towards independence she makes (a career) is considered selfish because it takes away from her Purpose to Serve. We take care of the home and the family so that men can focus their energy on running the world. In our support, we literally cultivate society by the children we raise, the lessons we teach, the homes we create.

Even on the job we carry the water. I remember decades ago when my manager came straight from a farm in rural Texas, thinking that his closing crew of all men would be the strongest crew he could have. Young bucks would do the heavy lifting. Instead, they would fart around and have fun, milking the hourly wage. When he replaced his crew with all women, we were out the door within 15 minutes, leaving every task done to optimum efficiency because we had families to get back to and more work to be done.

Ain’t nobody got time to mess around when you hold up the fabric of society.

As I approach my mid-50s, much of that no longer applies to me. My Mom Era is over, and the more part-time GG Era has begun. My children are grown and have their own families now. I can focus on things like the job, where fortunately I work for a company where all workers are expected to carry the water and so there’s way more support and encouragement and recognition for the hard work we do individually.

I don’t have to do it all anymore. I can relax. I can – gasp – have fun.

There’s no need or cause for the Martyr anymore, which is frankly for the best. But that old broad ain’t going down without a fight. So, now I get to unlearn those unhealthy behaviors, and I’ve decided to dedicate the next year to doing just that.

I already knew that this was going to be a major undertaking before the events of this past week. It is an interesting twist of the Universe that the two have collided in the way that they have, but honestly it should come as no surprise. The loftier the goals, the greater the obstacles. What’s that saying? You wanna make God laugh, tell him your plans.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past five decades, I’m strong enough to weather the storm. I’ve been dealing with the dark and dirty world since I was the tender age of four, where I faced trauma alone and had to protect myself by any means necessary. Having outsourced my healing to a child, the resulting coping mechanisms haven’t been so healthy. They have stemmed directly from this lack of respect I was taught by all the bullshit that, honestly, has nothing at all to do with my inherent value.

I’ve been through IT, capital I, capital T, and if there’s anything I know for sure is that I am here for a Purpose. To thrive, I need to fortify. I need to remind myself who I am and what I’m capable. I’m made of literal stardust who created my dreams out of nothing but sheer will. This body, derided by the masses, kicked the shit out of cancer – handily.

This isn’t the first, or likely the last, time I have had to pick myself up, brush myself off and get back in the ring.

Good thing I am more than a Conqueror… with all the battle scars to prove it.

It’s time to show Past Ginger that she still matters, she can still have joy, she can still be safe and protected. It’s time to show Present Ginger she has the strength and stamina to make it through whatever the universe wants to throw at her. And in doing so, we’ll arm Future Ginger with everything she needs to thrive into the future and enjoy the time she has left, with a lot left in Purpose and Passion to spare.

It's time to put the air mask on myself. No permission, no apology.

Everything else… is just turbulence.