New Year, New [Changes in] Me
The year just started and I think it’s safe to say the phrase “New Year, New Me” has probably seen its last season. It’s another quick phrase we’ve developed that started out as a novel approach to self-development but has quickly become a bit of an empty platitude.
The research shows time and time again that resolutions often leave us feeling worse off about ourselves. Last year, I wrote about pivoting from resolution to intention. But, the more I thought about this phrase and the work I do with my clients, the more I realized that the core of “new year, new me” is an understanding that if we want to see something different in ourselves, we need to do something different in ourselves.
This is backed up by some nifty psychology. The Identity Status Theory suggests that the development of identity happens at the intersection of exploration and commitment. Exploration is defined as any form of intentional curiosity of self that results in trying new, or different experiences that yield data on an aspect of self. An era of exploration according to this theory, is often started by some kind of crisis that challenges current identity. Nothing prompts you more to figure out who you are than some kind of life-altering situation. Commitment is defined by an assertion of an aspect of self. Ideally, we want to reach Identity Achievement where we fully explore an aspect of self and assertively commit to expressing that aspect of self.
Alright, example time! When I was in my early twenties, and rather religious, I didn’t intentionally explore aspects of my faith or my interests. I had a good understanding of my core self: goofy, empathetic, relational, and dorky. I felt settled in those characteristics. I was married to someone who felt very sure of themselves and had a strong tie to interests, preferences, and character traits. He was so sure in himself that at times I felt judged for liking a specific kind of show or loving a certain genre of music and so I took on a lot of his interests as my own. I was also in a community that didn’t encourage curiosity or exploration because it might lead to some forms of sinful behavior. So instead I worked to be the image of a doting, religious wife. This development of identity is called identity foreclosure. I didn’t engage in a lot of intentional exploration of who I was in terms of my beliefs and the way I liked to spend my time, but I committed to those identity expressions of being very involved in this community as well as taking on the interests and hobbies of the person I was with.
I got to a point in my life where I felt like I had no strong sense of who I was. I didn’t feel like I belonged in this community and that was emphasized by the fact that I felt abandoned when I was no longer a married woman nor an immediate eligible bachelorette for the fine young brethren. I also felt like there were aspects of myself I was suppressing or neglecting because they didn’t align with the interests of my spouse. Post-divorce I worked really hard to use this crisis of having to build my life from scratch as an opportunity to figure out who I was. I traveled alone, dated different kinds of people, developed a group of friends who loved trying new things and had the same sense of fun and adventure as I did and I felt like I had come to a place where I had really understood who I was.
2023 was all about capitalizing on this exploration and expressing the things I had learned about myself. I dressed differently, focused on the environments I felt most vitalized in, and was attached to my “single girl era”. As the year progressed, however, my heart became more attached to a single person. In the end, this person ended up breaking my heart. Everything after seemingly came crashing down: car troubles, emergency vet visits, unexpected health news, to name a few. On top of that, my core group of friends was also going through their own life experiences and the amount we all got to see each other lessened. I felt stressed, lonely, and afraid all while trying to mend my heart. The little stuff that I had become so good at managing, started to feel insurmountable.
It felt like the first half of 2023 was so far away. Everything I had worked for was for naught. As I started to get ready to attend the pittiest of parties, I remembered how I had come so far in developing who I was. The truth was this person entered my life and forced me to consider and explore unmasked parts of myself and thus created a new crisis that needed sorting-new aspects of self that needed commitment to.
And this is what life is. Our sense of self grows, develops, and CHANGES over time. Each season of exploration, each crisis, offers a chance for us to commit to another part of self that maybe was being neglected or a recommitment to parts of self that had been dimmed.
So instead of focusing on creating a whole new person from thin air, we should work to explore uncharted aspects of ourselves and use that exploration to make commitments to express new aspects of ourselves.
Here are a few things I explored during this “crisis” and the commitments I made as a result.
New Perspective
Growing up, the story I was told about suffering was one of glorification. If you could overcome your suffering, you could show everyone just how hard you have it and stick it to them by overcoming it in the end. I resented martyrdom and I didn’t want to do the same thing I saw growing up. As a result, I used to suffer in silence, afraid to burden the people in my life. I would crawl into my hole of depression, anxiety, and troubles and work internally to resolve it all on my own. Then I’d come out shiny and new ready to take on the next set of obstacles. It was easier to hide these woes in a marriage. It seemed like I had a partner, but the reality is I often felt alone in that relationship. When I was finally ready to end it, I had moved into a little 500-square-foot apartment and a month later, the entire world shut down. For the following four years, I lived alone while counseling people during the hardest years in modern history.
I was burning out quicker when a series of unfortunate events would take place. I felt the sting of singleness and the truth was, doing it all alone had become far too exhausting.
It was then during a therapy session shortly after my most recent heartbreak that I was sharing with my therapist how distant I had been feeling from my friends. She’d asked if they knew what I was going through. Taken aback from such a simple question, I said “they’re my best friends, of course they do”. And she said “no, do they really know the extent of what you’re going through”. My gut answered first: “no”.
Coincidentally, the girl’s group chat started popping off with messages about a desire to go out together soon and get dressed up for the occasion. I got some in-vivo therapy- my personal favorite with my clients as well- and my therapist challenged me to write a text back expressing a desire to have this happen soon and that I need the companionship. My draft started with “That would be great. I could really use some girl time as I’ve been having the move from hell”. Immediately my counselor stopped and said, “That sounds like a joke and not like what you’re actually going through”. So, begrudgingly I changed the message to: “I could use the time together. I’m having a really hard time right now.”
Immediately the responses came in. All supportive, encouraging, and committed to time together soon to have that much-needed gal time. For years I mistook my openness with others as vulnerability. The truth was though, that whenever I shared about my woes, I’d either laugh it off, minimize it, or have a solution to my pain ready to go so that the people in my life wouldn’t feel burdened. I wasn’t being vulnerable because I wasn’t totally honest about how I was experiencing the hardships in my life.
I wanted to show them that I didn’t want to be pitied or admired, that my place in their life was to be their support, to be the fun-loving goofball that the people in my life have come to expect. When I did hang out with my friends and told them what was happening, they all chimed in and with some tough love and expressed how they don’t know to be there for me because of how independent I am. They also stated that they can’t know I need support if I’m not letting them know the depth of what I’m experiencing.
So I aimed to have a new approach. I’d be more vulnerable with my struggles. I’d be more truthful about how my heart was doing and stop fearing the reaction of my friends. If I was saying these girls were my best and truest friends, then I needed to give them the opportunity to be there for me. Knowing I had a support system present allowed me to be less afraid about the health news or worrying about all the little stuff I had to tackle alone. I was able to be more grounded and let the fears stay small instead of spiraling out of control with anxiety.
In being honest with others, I was able to be honest with myself about my fears and my grief. I really took my time exploring the impact of this last relationship. I allowed myself to feel angry at this person for how they hurt me, sad about not having them in my life anymore, and grateful for the role they had. This new approach to processing the end of relationships helped me shift one major issue in my mind. For years, I knew what I didn’t want in a relationship, but I always had a hard time putting a finger on what ultimately mattered the most. After experiencing such a strong emotional connection, where I felt seen and understood, I could articulate what I needed from a potential partner in the future. I felt like I had finally understood what it meant to feel ready to date and was excited to have a new approach to meeting people.
Finally, being more vulnerable allowed me to work through some pretty intense existential fears. After getting a biopsy, I learned I had precancerous cells that needed to be removed. (PSA, get regular dermatology scans!) I immediately panicked after the biopsy. I went to the worst-case scenario and started to spiral. But instead of holding it in, I called the people closest to me and I realized that even if the worst-case scenario did happen, the truth is, none of us are immortal. Talking through fear of illness and death with my friends helped me be more accepting and at peace with the things in life that scare me the most. It also helped me kick start the work I need to do around my beliefs and faith now that I no longer am part of an organized religious community.
New Environment
Shortly after getting my heart broken, I got the notice of my lease expiring. I had been living in the same apartment for three years. After living in a tiny apartment and then proceeding to move two more times within a year, I knew I wanted to stay put somewhere. I moved back to the same neighborhood I fell in love with when my ex-husband and I first moved back to Florida. While I loved the neighborhood, it meant some unexpected run-ins with my past. As time went on, it didn’t feel triggering to bump into the life I used to have but I’d be lying if I said I was never triggered when I drove past where I used to call home. Despite this, I built a life for myself in a couple of miles. I joined a gym I loved, I made a friend who not only turned out to be one of my best friends but the catalyst to developing a group of friends I now consider family. I learned how I liked to structure my home and I cultivated memories with friends, family, and the people I dated there.
But when I got my leasing notice, something in me felt ready to part. I felt like I had outgrown the space. I had become so settled in life in this neighborhood that I rarely ventured out. I had a solid routine and in that routine, I avoided individuals I didn’t want to see. I felt warmth at the faces I was accustomed to being greeted by and I felt comfortable.
Too comfortable.
I knew I didn’t want to get back on the dating apps. I knew that I had to supplement my social time with people who were in a similar phase of life seeing that many of my friends had partnered up and didn’t have the same time to go to happy hours or the occasional weeknight dinner anymore. I also knew that I was ready to shed some of the memories of past relationships that hadn’t yielded my forever.
If I wanted to have different experiences I had to be in different environments. So I made the decision to explore a new neighborhood. The move came with its own set of challenges. I was resolved to use this move as an opportunity to do something different with how I set up and decorated my apartment. I wanted to try my hand at my decorative voice and ordered many new pieces. Historically, I move everything and am fully unpacked in a few days. This time it took me a few months.
I wanted to take my time with this move. I wanted this apartment to feel like a refuge. Somewhere different for me to make new memories with people who knew this version of me. I wanted my past to be more of a hint than an ever-present companion and that meant it would take time to build.
I learned to be patient with my space. Which, is a new thing for me. Because I was patient, I feel so in love with my space and am excited to share it with the people I love.
A new neighborhood also meant being in new spaces where I could meet new people. In a short few months, I’ve been welcomed into a new gym with a set of friends who are closer to my age and season of life. While they don’t replace the core group I’ve developed, they’ve made a lovely addition to my social system.
I’ve also done a lot of different things for fun! I went to my first EDM festival and had one of the best nights of my life!
New Commitment
Exploring new ways of thinking and new environments has allowed me to commit to a few things I now know to be true about myself. The first is that I can trust myself to develop the kind of friendships I need in order to feel supported. Even if I feel lonely sometimes, I’m not alone. I trust that I am someone who can handle scary news, who can look at the face of uncertainty and believe that it’s all going to be okay.
I’ve also committed to a new personal boundary for the relationships and spaces I find myself in. I only want to spend my energy on people and places that make me feel desired and valued, not convenient and used. I don’t want to spend my personal time on relationships where I feel like I’m doing the same work I do with my clients. I want to challenge people in my personal life, not be their emotional compass. I now feel the freedom to ask for what I want, and what I need, and to give feedback or share my opinions when I feel it’s appropriate.
Commitment to these boundaries, perspectives, and environments has allowed me to develop my identity further into being a fun-loving empathetic dork who loves Bad Bunny, plays videos games, and feels comfortable in her own skin. Who loves people fully but doesn’t allow herself to be taken advantage of. Who hates talking in the third person but is doing it for the plot [of this blog]. Someone who is encouraging you to think about who you want to be this year instead of what you want to get done.
Take this opportunity to explore who you are, and lean into the crises’ of life as an opportunity to fully grow into yourself. Then show everyone who that person is by committing to the things that feel authentic and true of you.
Happy New Year!