Not exactly the setting for the string of thoughts that have been bothering me for the past couple of weeks. Decidedly not the time to bring up, yet again, New Year’s resolutions. But here I am, bothered at the humiliating and discouraging thing I realized almost three weeks ago: I can’t think of a time when I’ve been the active agent of change in my own life.
I don’t mean to say I haven’t changed—that I’m in a perpetual static state, or that time and circumstance have had no effect on me. The thing that worries me is that I can’t think of a time when I set out to change and then, a year later, looked back to see it was accomplished.