I’ve seen a flood of content around resolution setting and goals for 2021 that left me feeling, well, left out. 

Personal resolutions, including New Years resolutions, often reinforce ableism, fatphobia, and healthism. Side bar: this is a great interview with disability justice organizer Mia Mingus on beauty and abelsim, highly recommend reading!

These “-isms largely leaves disabled, chronically ill, fat, and many other intersecting identities feeling invalidated and unworthy. As a working mom with a disabling chronic illness, I want to hide from most conversations from December 26 through somewhere around February 16 when resolutions, goals, new diets, new exercise routines, new supplements take small talk and friendly conversations hostage.

1. Setting intentions. I’ve set a word of the year as a guiding intention annually for awhile now. 2017 was “inspire”, 2018 was “enough”, 2019 was “be”. I spend a few weeks at the end of the year reflecting on areas I’ve grown, areas I can still grow, and identify things that made me feel valuable. Intentions take priority over goals because it gives me a framework to grow and flexibility to meet myself where I am at. This is so important when you’re dealing with chronic illness or disabilities. We often live in the “in between” (appointments, pre-auths, procedures, treatments—I like to think of them as permission slips... the things that give us a “right” to continue on). That kind of living breeds a whole lot of uncertainty bookending the actions, authorizations, access that give us permission to survive or occasionally thrive. When you live with that level of uncertainty, flexibility is invaluable.

2. Avoid clinging on to specific long shot health goals. Listen, I’m not saying don’t have hope for what is possible. I’m saying your body, mind, existence is exactly enough right now as is. If I were to set a goal in 2021 of achieving a second remission (possible but highly improbable), I would be setting myself up for failure and disappointment while simultaneously signaling that my body is not enough as is. I reject that notion wholeheartedly. I am actively working against internalizing ableism and will allow myself to practice existing as I am now without apology. A more realistic goal for me is to work on maintaining my baseline by investing in deep rest to reduce flare ups. It is flexible, attainable, and honors my body.

3. Finding community. It is natural to compare ourselves and measurements of success to others. Find friends who understand the complexities of ableism and who are also actively fighting against it. You’ll find safe havens for hard days and best friends to celebrate the small victories. Don’t believe the lie that you can’t find true community online. If you’re chronically ill or disabled, chances are relationships that have been formed and sustained online are some of the most impactful, intimate, and empowering friendships you have. Lean into that without guilt. I hope to invest even more in these relationships moving forward.

4. Normalize without minimizing. I am working on getting more comfortable setting boundaries, naming ableism when I see it, and sharing intentionally and honestly about my experiences to destigmatize disability and chronic illness. This plays into resolutions because I think we can be the best most authentic versions of ourselves when we normalize the things that bring us shame or otherness. And isn't that what resolving is all about… being the best version of ourselves?

You’re likely not surprised to learn that I’ve chosen “practice” (the verb) as my intention word for 2021. Practice: the activity of doing something again and again in order to become better at it. There’s a lot to practice... to make, to learn, to do better, to lean into in 2021. 

I’ll share more on that soon. For now, I hope you find deep rest (a phrase borrowed from my friend Justine) in the next few days and the encouragement you need to face a new calendar year.