Look At Me Now.

The day itself was ordinary. Routine, monotonous, nothing spectacular.

But then, towards the end of the night, there was a moment. This brief moment in time where I was filled with pure joy, the highlight of this seemingly unimpressive day.

I felt high. Like insanely high. I remember my body bubbling to the brim with what felt like this happy drug and it was so unexpected, which made it all the more special.

And the best part? I can return to that very moment in time with song.

One song, in particular:

Chris Brown’s Look At Me Now.

I know. I know. Talk about a throwback. I was sixteen when this song came out.

*eyes widen

Anyhoo, when I heard this song the other night, it didn’t take me back in time to when I was sixteen (we don’t need to return there), it brought me to the present.

There I was, sitting at the bar with my family, during our weekly cocktails and conversation. We somehow got on the subject of fastest rap breaks in music, and of course this classic popped up.

I mean, Busta Rhymes back in the day?

Legend.

So, we put it on and let the music do the talking.

And when Busta started his rap, we felt it.

I mean we felt it. Bobbing our heads and motioning with our hands, we jammed hard as Busta spit his rhyme with unbelievable speed.

Our bodies danced, our faces squinted tight, and I let that joyous feeling soar as the rap played out.

Man it felt good.

So what is it about song and dance that bring about such robust feelings in me?

Well, it’s all about self-expression.

We all know music is ubiquitous in everyday life. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who “didn’t like music”, because regardless of genre, we all listen to tunes to ultimately feel something. Whether we pump up the jams to celebrate, mourn, cry, energize, heal, inspire, or simply to feel like a boss ass bitch, there’s a universality to song that connects us in an emotional way.

And dance? That’s how I express such emotions. That’s how a lot of brave and confident individuals do it, because it’s fun, it’s liberating, and the sensation of doing what feels right and good regardless of what we look like or who’s watching is exhilarating.

I mean, there’s nothing more beautiful to me than watching someone embracing their full authentic selves and not giving a damn about looking cool.

Looking cool is sooooo over-rated.

Just look at me!

Or should I say, Look At Me Now.

good Intentions.

Five, four, three, two, one, Happy New Year!

I look around me at everyone celebrating, at the clinks of champagne flutes as they come together, and the gaiety of celebration as it fills the room. At least some are excited for the new year.

Me? I feel the same.

If anything, I’m a little tired. It’s not that often that I’m up at midnight, and in all honesty, I’ve never been a fan of this particular holiday.

While everyone else in the world happily partakes in customary drinking, partying, and celebrating, I’m usually in reflective mode, internalizing the year and thinking about the next.

Naturally.

*also. why it become fashionable to get trashed on NYE and spend the first day of the new year hung-over is beyond me

If I am at a NYE party, you’ll either find getting low on the dance floor, shaking what my momma gave me, or off to the side of the room, observing and forming sentences in my head, and tonight, it was the latter.

I hadn’t been in the best headspace to begin with. I had been stifling the urge to cry nearly all day, battling with this unexplainable anxiety, and it was honestly taking all of my strength to put on a brave, grateful, and “I’m okay” face in front of my friends and family.

In situations like these, I always feel like the villain, the Debbie Downer. It hurts me, not being able to be present and celebrate with those I love most, especially during the holidays. And though I’m working on overcoming these difficult to explain feelings of insecurity and anxiousness, I also know it’s not going to fix itself overnight.

So during this particular party, I embraced my stance as the wallflower. And I started thinking about that damned question asked every year:

“What are your New Year’s resolutions?”

Ugh.

I loathe this question.

I get it. It’s common during the holidays to set these so called resolutions. I think it’s healthy and smart to note habits we’d like to change, or areas in which we’d like to grow, and for the most part, they all come from a place of good intention.

But for me, it’s such an ineffective strategy, and it comes from an “all or nothing”, do or die mentality. I’ve always felt this unnecessary pressure to achieve my goal and when I falter, stumble, or trip, I feel as if I’ve failed, and then in comes the shame and guilt. Like, really Elan? You couldn’t make it one month?

And that is not something I enjoy feeling.

I already feel that way. A lot.

So yeah, I’ve never been a front row fan of New Year’s resolutions.

But, I am a fan of setting intentions.

Notice the difference between the two:

Resolution- a firm decision to do or not to do something

Intention- a thing intended; an aim or plan

The approachability, the compassionate energy, and the friendliness of setting intentions over resolutions is clear, and it works miracles for someone like me, who’s more interested in the process over the end goal.

Intentions are achievable, and it doesn’t tie me to an outcome. Setting intentions encourages me to be mindful of my effort, that if/when I do fail, it doesn’t mean it’s the end. It teaches me to embrace my imperfections and rises me to the challenge of beginning again, without self-judgment.

And it focuses my energy not on “fixing”, but on “creating.”

See the difference?

Now I’m not like most people, so this strategy may not work for everyone. But for me, in my current state, it’s what I need: forgiveness, grace, and compassion.

So yes, there are a great deal of good intentions I’ve set for myself for the New Year. And I work on them with the knowledge that they will take time, and likely involve more emotional breakdowns.

Like, many more.

But it’s with this perspective, this alternate “resolution” that I am taught that through this work, I’m not “fixing” the life I have, but “creating” the one I want and can thrive in.