A resolution I can keep
The worst part of every new year is all the targeted ads trying to sell me something that is – allegedly – supposed to make me a better me. Supplements with adaptogens and 300% my daily intake of some B-movie sounding mineral. Sweatpants that are so soft and so ethical that I can’t help but work better. Increasingly more invasive workout trackers that promise to help me finally reach that elusive goal – they believe – I’ve been chasing since high school. Capitalism always has a solution for the problems it creates.
I’ve never been one for New Year’s resolutions. Not in the last decade anyway. My life was always tracked by 5-Star Christian charts* and demerit sheets and “what would Jesus think if he saw you doing that”. It was a perpetual resolution to be more Christian than I already was. I tried habit tracking for a while when “Atomic Habits” came out, but all habit tracking seemed to do was highlight my failures, rather than motivate me to keep habiting.
This year, however, I’ve made a resolution.
It’s weird.
It’s not what you think.
But bear with me.
I’ve resolved to be a disappointment.
Let me explain.
I’m an ardent devotee of Lyz Lenz’s newsletter Men Yell at Me. Lyz and I are in a deep, years-long, para-social relationship that started after I read her book “God Land”. She’s who I want to be when I grow up. Near the end of one of her December newsletters, Lyz had a few paragraphs about the death of her grandmother. She talked about the difficulty of grieving someone who doesn’t accept you as you are. Lyz, too, left a restrictive religion and often talks about the messy politics of relating to family who are still in it. She rounded out her thoughts with this:
“Monday night, my friend Molly met me for a drink of Jameson at a local Irish bar. And we saluted all my matriarchal ancestors, who are very disappointed in me. I hope I continue to disappoint.”
That last sentence stopped me in my tracks. I hope I continue to disappoint. I couldn’t help but think of the words of the late, great John Lewis: “Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble.” Cause trouble. Be a disappointment. It’s all the same.
Most people spend their whole lives trying to not be a disappointment. If you think about it, the quest to not be a disappointment is what makes the world go round. Why else would we try to make “good” grades, get into “good” colleges, work “good” jobs, marry the “right” person, e.g.?
We say we strive for these things because we want to have fulfilling careers or make a lot of money or leave a legacy, but lurking beneath the surface of all of those completely valid reasons is the desire to not be a disappointment to ourselves, to our parents, to our partners.
Whole industries are dedicated to helping people not be a disappointment. All you have to do is take a quick scroll through Instagram or the New York Times to see headlines peppered with how-tos and ways to do everything from healing your gut microbiome to properly funding your 401K to keeping your monstera alive.
I understand that these examples more broadly fall under what we call “self-care”, but I can’t help but wonder what is motivating these behaviors. Is it because you really want to heal your gut microbiome? Or because you know that if you succeed, you will generally be viewed as a success, and therefore not as a disappointment for failing to meet some sort of unspoken societal standard? You will be the Ideal Human with no problems.
I grew up in a culture of excellence. I was to strive for excellence in all things. “Excellence” is a word which here means “performative perfection at all times in every thought, word, and deed.” If I failed to live up to these standards of excellence, I would disappoint my parents, my siblings, my pastor, and – most importantly – god.
Conveniently, the standards of excellence were things that could be very easily observed and measured. The style/modesty of clothing. The words used. The music styles. All you had to do was say “thank you” to a compliment instead of “praise the Lord” and someone could call you out for being prideful.
I worked very hard to be the good kid. As the oldest daughter, I knew that I was the moral compass of our little cohort and that it was my responsibility to set a good example. A lot of my time was spent regulating everything about me in order to prove to those around me that I was what they wanted me to be. I was successful. I had all the right answers and all the right behaviors. I was everything they wanted me to be.
And yet, somehow, I’ve always gotten the sense that I was a disappointment.
After I left fundamentalism, I still did everything I could to prove to those from my past life that I wasn’t the disappointment they thought I was. That even though I was now wearing pants, and irregularly attending church, and considered too opinionated, that I was still a success.
Many times in conversations I would feel the urge to be my own cheerleader and say, “but wait, just because I don’t fit your version of reality doesn’t mean I’m not a success in my own right.” But in a world of tit-for-tat religiosity, people don’t know how to make room for people who don’t conform.
Resolving to be a disappointment is not necessarily a departure from what I’ve already been. But Autumn, you may say, aren’t you gainfully employed? Don’t you own a house? Aren’t you married? Aren’t these the typical societal markers of success? Yes, that’s true. Typically, that is how people measure success.
Success, however, belongs to those who play the game – regardless of what construct you were raised in. Sure, we’re a society that praises “rebels”, but a rebel is just a disappointment who achieved commercial success.
So, my goal is to be a disappointment.
To find ways to radically love others
To stand up for what’s right even though it’s uncomfortable
To speak my mind even though I know it’s not accepted
To know that just because people don’t love me, it doesn’t mean I’m not lovable
To foster curiosity and an open-heart
To drink whiskey and study feminism and go to concerts
To live, really
It’s probably the first resolution I’ll ever keep.
*To be a 5-Star Christian you had to (1) Pray daily, (2) Read your Bible daily, (3) Attend Church “every time the doors were open”, (4) Give tithes and offerings, and (5) Witness to the lost.