I’m Making a New Year’s Resolution to Not Make a Resolution This Year.

 I’ve decided in a world that is supposed to be so into mindfulness, we are really doing a terrible job. Everybody I know has been making lists—and I don’t mean to Santa. No, they are making lists of everything they should be doing. Oftentimes, I’m guilty of it, too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we shouldn’t be productive, plan ahead or aspire to be a better version of ourselves. That is essentially what we do in the magazine business every day—inspire people to aspire. I enjoy the pretty pictures and the exquisite taste of the experts we converse with every day. It’s fun to dream up a beautiful kitchen or my next outfit, but I’m OK with the fact that most days, those things just aren’t tangible.

My grandmother wasn’t a great cook, she didn’t keep an impeccable home, she didn’t acquire wealth or start a company, but she left a legacy that has become of vital importance to me and my family. She taught us all to practice mindfulness in the simplest way possible, before the word became a catchphrase. One of her favorite things to quote was Scarlett O’Hara’s famous line in Gone With the Wind, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.” While most of us think of Scarlett as selfish and irresponsible, Nana saw her strength. Scarlett knew her limits. She knew that her own mental health must be preserved at all costs, through war, loss of loved ones, loss of property and more. That strength came with taking on only what she could handle at any given moment.

There are only so many hours in a day. That isn’t just a saying, it’s a fact. We can only complete so many tasks in a day. Our time is precious. So many people determine whether their day is good or bad by whether it was productive. This seems backwards to me. In fact, sometimes it is in the quiet moments that the most important things in our lives happen: a hug from our kids, a phone call from our grandmother, a great idea for our next meal or our next project. We have to give ourselves a little breathing room to just be. We need to stop scheduling yoga sessions just to be mindful and give our brains a rest from the chaos.

There is a mental health term oftentimes used when diagnosing those who struggle with anxiety called catastrophizing. It’s when a person’s perception of the consequences of something get magnified in their mind to the point that they see the most likely outcome of the situation to be the worst case scenario. Many times, I see us doing that as a society. We want the Instagram-worthy picture of our lives: a neat but busy calendar, a tidy and beautiful home, the perfect outfit, skin, make-up, meal. What we forget is that those are just snapshots. What happens if those things we aspire to can’t be met today? The reality is: nothing, because in real life, they can never be met. The second the camera turns off, a hair is out of place, pillows are tossed onto the floor and toys scattered about. We inevitably spill something on that gorgeous rug, that beautiful blouse, and that’s OK because the spills happen in the living of our lives.

My grandmother never worried about her mark on the world. She never felt guilty for all the things she wasn’t doing. She and my grandfather did the best they could raising four children in a tiny, two-bedroom apartment. She gave what she could when she could. She was loving and generous, but she never worried about how a gift was wrapped. She would often hand it to you in the bag she bought it in, because she knew it was what was inside that counted more. She didn’t care about what she wore, as long as she had a little pink lipstick to wear with it. She told everyone not to fuss, to sit down, to watch the sunset, to finish something later and stop for a cup of tea. The only thing she ever wished for was the ability to paint when she saw a beautiful sunset or a rainbow. She never felt she was a burden to anyone if she asked them for help finishing a recipe, tying her shoe or getting her a blanket, even when those requests became constant at 102. And she was right—we liked her just the way she was. That is her legacy. That is her mark on my heart.

My guess is, if you ask 10 people who know you, they would say the same thing about you. They like you just the way you are. This new year, I hope someone tells you to sit down, to have a cup of tea or to watch the sunset. And if someone asks you what your new year’s resolution is, just tell them, “I’ll think about that tomorrow.”