The best things I did for myself in 2024

Ways I became more *me*

My Spanish teacher told me about the cutest thing the other day.

In Italy, where she lives (go figure), there’s a tradition on the 6th of January where a mythical old woman flies around on a broomstick giving gifts to children, and then you burn her straw-made likeness in a bonfire to rid of what’s unnecessary from the old year and invite in the new!

I love the whimsy of this tradition, and I especially love how it draws out the celebration of the new year. A whole year takes time to process, and to ponder: What do I want to leave behind, and what do I want to take with me?

Inspired by whimsical Italians, I’ve let 2025 settle in slowly, while not rushing out the residue of 2024.

Especially because I felt so much more at home in my life this past year than ever, I want to make sure and integrate all that homeyness and sweetness into the coming months and beyond.

Most of that goodness came in, unearned, as a nice byproduct of growing a year older. And, some of it came from some things I did for myself this year that made a big difference in my spirit and psyche.

Here are the highlights:

I got one of those fancy MRI scans. And made a bunch of other doctor appointments.

It wasn’t exactly gentle parenting, but now I’m grateful that one of my mom’s top mothering missions was to make me comfortable with things I didn’t like doing.

At the time, I called her mean for making me stick with piano, math homework, thank-you-card-writing, dentist-going, and Brussels-sprouts-tasting.

Now, I get it. A LOT of life involves doing things you’d rather not be doing!! How do you make it manageable? How do you make it comfortable? How do you even possibly find some fun and beauty in it? Is it possible that you’ll enjoy Brussels sprouts this time?

This is the spirit I took with me as I crossed off all my “I should probably make this appointment” chores this year.

As an adult , I look forward to going to the dentist (the feeling of being taken care of!) but there are all kinds of referrals and tests and unbearable finance meetings that have been sitting stale on my Goals List for months.

I found that inertia was a useful partner as I embarked on my appointment spree. Once I made the first, tedious TMJ consultation, I was on a roll.

It felt exhilarating, gaining all these new superpowers to feeling better. My jaw no longer hurt! My gums were squeaky clean! My wrist stopped bugging me during yoga! I cleared up that pesky seasonal rash thing on my chin! All because of APPOINTMENTS!!

For my grand finale, I got one of those fancy MRI scans where I lay still in a machine and watched a movie while a machine scrutinized every one of my insides.

(I can easily see why someone would *not* want to do that, nor want the information that it provides, but I have the exact personality type that wants it desperately.)

And guess what—the machine found a little goober hanging out on one of my organs without being invited!!

While right now it’s a Nothing, it could turn into a Something, and a pleasant grandfatherly oncologist is working his magic to make sure that the Nothing’s aspirations of becoming Something are quickly crushed!

I have no illusions that health or mortality are in my control, but going to all these fanciful experts and professional gum-cleaners felt like the bodily equivalent of cleaning and organizing the house—a chore that can be energizing with an optimistic mindset.

Clearing out the “I should do this” clutter makes navigating as a body more peaceful, just as opening my cupboard to see the flours and spices tidy and lined up like little soldiers makes cooking more peaceful.

And no, I haven’t gotten to the cupboards project yet!!!!!!

Appointment Spree Look

I committed to a vegan diet.

In the first couple months after fully committing to veganism (after being wishy-washy on-off “plant-based” for years), I kept getting the same question:

“Do you feel so much better?”

And often quickly followed by an orderly parade of others: “Do you have more energy? Have you lost weight? Is your skin clearer?”

In a society that has set up an endless scavenger hunt for us all to find the one skeleton key that will unlock eternal health and happiness, the questions didn’t surprise me.

What DID surprise me was my answer: No. Nothing’s changed.

Well, nothing below my ears.

My body’s the same shape. My skin looks the same. My energy has remained at its usual feline levels.

What did change, dramatically, was my mind.

For so long, I KNEW good and well there was no such thing as ethical meat and dairy, but I consumed them anyway. That cognitive dissonance put a constant strain on my self-perception and mental ease.

The thing is, whenever I go against one of my values, I chip away at my self-respect. It’s hard to be someone I admire when I contradict my ethics. Over time, my confidence eroded as my actions didn’t line up with my values.

But when I made decisions to act on my ethics in every moment possible, I became a person I respect very much.

With self-respect comes self-confidence, and now I do things that a confident person might do! Like genuinely care much less what others think, because I trust and look up to my own self!!!

And because I trust and look up to myself, I can trust in my goodness even when my actions adjust to a new context. My eating habits have temporarily changed with my shifting health, and I feel great about that; ethics are contextual, and I’m still in alignment with my most closely-held beliefs.

Clearly, this isn’t really about veganism. It’s about a more grown-up approach to self-care and self-love. Not as much fun as bubble baths and spa days, but ultimately more fulfilling.

Learning to care and love for myself as I would a friend means gently holding myself to the standard of integrity that I would a friend. I don’t mean that in a punitive or judgmental way; I mean it with the giant balloon bouquet of mercy and compassion and grace that I’d be delighted to hand anyone I admire, because they’ve given me plenty of reasons to trust their sweet heart.

Being able to trust my sweet heart made my life so much more comfy this year.

EVEN/ESPECIALLY WHEN I AM NOT PERFECT. :)))))

I let my body be a living thing.

This is the first year in history when I had no impulse or desire to change anything about my body’s appearance.

I noticed a big shift early in the year: Whenever I experienced a pang of dissatisfaction with a way my body looked, I took the pang as a signal that my mindset needed to change, not my physical being.

How did a millennial woman whose brain was formed by America’s Next Top Model and SlimFast Shake commercials do this???

It was the (slowwww) process of respecting my body as a living thing, every bit as natural and ever-changing as a peony bush, bullfrog, or sheepdog.

During the process of research about other living creatures for my upcoming book, I began seeing myself more and more as a creature. And, like so many other distressed creatures, I live in a zoo of sorts that is not built for my well-being or instincts.

With my body and health changing more than ever, I FINALLY got it into my little head that my physical self is wise, wonderful, and perfectly good. She’s just living in an environment that isn’t suited to that wisdom and wonderfulness!

It’s like those old sad zoos that kept bears in empty swimming pools and cheetahs in glass cases with fake grass. Those animal bodies in all their fits and frustrations are not the problem; the problem is that they can’t be their splendid creaturely selves in a structure that is built for optimal control and viewing, rather than optimal living.

Our human structures are also built for control and viewing! Imagine if a wrinkle could just exist as a wrinkle, every bit as inoffensive as a cat’s whisker or a senior dog’s beautiful sugar-face.

What if sickness didn’t “interfere” with work, but allowed for deep physical and spiritual rest that all living things need?

What if rolls of fat had no meaning attached to them other than shape, no more worrisome than the plump joyful leaves of a jade plant?

These are the thoughts I began entertaining (at the boisterous dinner party in my head!) as I found myself loving the look of fat rolls, smile lines, unusual proportions, and unsmoothed skin textures.

Signs of existence, of being a critter, of growing on an evolving planet.

While writing my book, I stopped seeing binaries between other living things: good, bad, safe, unsafe, ugly, cute.

All animals became equally cute to me: beetles and piglets alike. They are all just waddling through the world, responding to cues of hunger, sleep, migration, and change.

As are we: silly-looking waddlers who have constructed all these hilariously inept enclosures for ourselves that have nothing to do with our dear human needs.

Therefore, I’ve been creating a much better zoo for myself at home: a flexible schedule full of ways my body loves to move, a refrigerator blessedly full of foods my body squeals with joy over, and absolutely zero inanimate products that force their whack values on my body. What does a night cream know about living as a person anyway?? Anti-aging?? Cellulite reduction!? Please!

Not in my zoo!

A happy happy critter in a stretchy dress! No stiff fabrics allowed in this zoo :)

I settled into my mensch-ness.

Speaking of imperfections and my tendency toward them:

My OCD manifests its funny self in moral scrupulosity—a fixation with being a “good” person.

It might sound nice, but it does way more harm than good. Rather than actually doing small helpful things, I shame myself for not doing bigger helpful-er things. I sling the weight of the world’s woes on my back, a burden that immobilizes me into a sad starfish-position on my couch rather than inspires me toward action. I take it upon myself to ruminate on and remember all the saddest scenarios I can possibly recall or imagine, a la The Giver, as though I were appointed by the universe to make sure every potential or existent sorrow in the world is meticulously obsessed-over. Super useful.

ANYWAY. Much easier said than done, but this year I resolved to stop trying to be an angel, and instead aspire to be a mensch.

One afternoon, I was minding my own business, walking down my street toward home, when I saw a waitress struggling to open the restaurant door as she brought dishes back inside from the patio. I shuffled over to open the door for her, and when she got inside, I went on my merry way.

A few steps later, I heard a man call out to me from the patio:

“YOU’RE A MENSCH!!!!”

I probably put my hand to my heart and reacted, “Awww thank you!” because that’s exactly how I felt. It was so nice! And, it actually changed my life.

I don’t know the exact definition, but I think of a ‘mensch’ as a good, salt-of-the-earth, does-the-right-thing person. Emphasis on the word person.

Not a lionized saint, not an AI-created version of myself with high cheekbones and an impeccable track record of magnanimity, not The Giving Tree with endless resources to help others unless she’s withered away.

Just a good, solid person.

Months later, I’d read a collection of tributes to Jimmy Carter, whom writers described over and over as “a decent man.” Such a fitting description of a steadily hardworking human who consistently did what he could and gave what he had to give.

Decency, I thought, must be an underrated virtue in a societal framework that rewards showiness and extremes. It’s not about being always right, or always great, but it’s about being always good, which is far from perfect but close to full aliveness.

I think of my mom, the ultimate mensch, who buys extra newspapers from street vendors even though she has a subscription, gives bags of clementines to hungry people, writes letters to voice her disdain for the foie gras industry, always tips extra in cash, sorts her recycle meticulously so no one else has to do it, and never forgets a birthday card.

“What would a mensch do?” I think almost daily now. A mensch isn’t nice just to be nice, and a mensch never over-extends to the point of resentment. A mensch does kind things when called, steps back when needed, and is always on the lookout for waiters who need a door open or distant friends who have a birthday.

Any menschiness I have is a direct result of the mensches around me: my mom, many beautiful good imperfect people in my life, and presidents I’ll never meet who model decency.

Mommy the Mensch

I let my goals make themselves and got comfy with changing my mind.

Another first for me this year: I didn’t make many goals. I didn’t set out to do or go anywhere or accomplish anything specific.

If you were to look through my living-room-sized charts and maps of New Years Past, you’d be shocked to hear this. I get giddy over goal-making and can’t resist a clean slate of any sort: not a new week, nor a new season, and certainly not new year!

But 2024 unfolded so graciously that I didn’t even realize for a while that I’d been releasing new endeavors and aspirations as quickly as I made them.

I became much more secure in The Art of the Dabble: dabbling in this, dabbling in that, quitting, re-starting, or continuing with no particular intention.

I dabbled in voice lessons, in songwriting, in Ayurvedic nutrition, in creating art shows, in cooking with rutabaga. I meant to keep them up, but then other interests took over—such is the life of a dilettante! :)

I remember reading an article about re-thinking ‘busyness,’ and this particular paragraph which reshaped my allocation of time:

Instead of saying “I don’t have time” try saying “it’s not a priority,” and see how that feels. Often, that’s a perfectly adequate explanation. I have time to iron my sheets, I just don’t want to. But other things are harder. Try it: “I’m not going to edit your résumé, sweetie, because it’s not a priority.” “I don’t go to the doctor because my health is not a priority.” If these phrases don’t sit well, that’s the point. Changing our language reminds us that time is a choice. If we don’t like how we’re spending an hour, we can choose differently.

The suggested language was a tad jarring, but I started being honest (with myself!) about my priorities. For example:

I’d like to keep up with that acquaintance… but it’s not a priority.

I should probably read Moby Dick… but it’s not a priority.

I could start jogging… but it’s not a priority.

I said I’d go check out that exhibit… but it’s not a priority.

I already invested time and money into Gaelic lessons… but it’s not a priority.

Whoa!

As harsh as it sounds, noting What I Do Not Prioritize At This Juncture created room for things I was actively excited about, and wouldn’t end up resenting just because I made a half-assed promise to myself, or believed in that ever-pesky “SHOULD” word.

2024 was the year when I got really into something, and then I’d move on. I could make a whole altars of all my little failures, but I’d rather see them as tiny adventures.

Oo! I learned how to sing a little higher! Ooo! I started drinking warm lime water every morning! Oooo! I can dance better now, but I’m more interested in weightlifting this season!

Somewhere along the road, I got it in my head that consistency is the only way to get what you want in life. If you’re starting a TikTok career or the opening debate in a logical argument, that’s probably true.

But if you’re a changing breathing growing LIVING THING, consistency is sort of a moot virtue.

Does anyone else care that you liked running for a while but never finished training for a race? Will your obituary boast that you never canceled a gym membership in your life? Do your friends love you because you get the same macronutrient numbers every day?

Because I am a changing breathing growing living thing, I might change my mind and go back to goal-making some day. :) But, for now, I’m following life.

A favorite quote, by Rilke: “Let life happen to you. Believe me: life is in the right, always.”

My first and final day of being a Hat Individual in 2024. Dabbling!!!

I rode waves.

When 2024 began, I chose the guiding word ‘Devotion’ to anchor my actions for the coming months.

I set out to take myself more seriously—bringing more discipline to the areas of life whose reins had too much slack.

I noticed that my wily bad habits had gotten used to a lawless existence, roaming free without parents or perimeters.

For habits who were never accustomed to being wrangled up, they were rebellious and angry at first.

I found myself whiny, rude, and rambunctious toward myself when I tried to impose any rules, an explosive mother-toddler dynamic clashing around in my spirit as I tried in vain to bargain with my primal instincts and base desires.

“No!” I’d say out loud as my hand reached out for reliable tools of procrastination, numbness, avoidance. My hand—much stronger and more defiant than the orders from my head—always won.

The process reminded me of taking in my half-feral senior street cat and fully expecting her to comprehend my calm instruction to stop clawing the sofa. It was like giving an etiquette manual to a sea monkey. I needed a better way to communicate with my own self.

Enter: urge-surfing.

The tool I’d learned about while giving up alcohol for Lent is the same tool I’d use over and over again for other untamed behaviors that needed guidance but couldn’t understand the language I used to guide.

I stopped talking to myself, and instead tried being with myself. Instead of using words, I used a picture: The picture of an overwhelming wall of ocean wave coming toward me. If I stand stiff against it, it will knock me over, and most likely hurt me.

But if I relax into the water and let the wave carry me, I’ll save energy so I can swim. I imagined rocking back and forth in the strong waters, then coming out on the other side, play-splashing on a calm surface.

Ride the wave….stay with it.…just swim…I’d think over and over, literally rocking my body back and forth to stay fluid and easeful.

It was no longer me-as-disciplinarian to my wayward wants, but rather a comforting mama rocking me gently as I encountered/managed/got past those waves.

Becoming One with the Waves in Miami

I allowed people to be people (can you believe??)

Okay, this one is going to take several lifetimes to truly get in my head, but I CANNOT CHANGE PEOPLE and I am now just beginning to understand that terrible tragedy!!!

I just feel like life would be easier and better if I could decide how everyone thinks and behaves, right?!! Which is probably why multiple friends sent me this post haha:

Here’s what has helped me allow people to be the people they are:

I love the Maya Angelou quote, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them”…but it lands on my ears with a hint of cynicism that I don’t find particularly helpful (obviously a single quote deserves much more context!).

A slight reframe that I find more helpful is: “I trust that everyone is doing their best.” And, what that means, per Brené Brown and other geniuses, is that people are continually showing us what their best looks like.

The minor difference in these two perspectives is that the former speaks more to character, and the latter speaks more to actions.

Sometimes, a person with a strong character doesn’t show up for you in the way you would have specifically wanted. And sometimes, others surprise you with how generous they are in a time of need.

A person’s “best” can fall short for a million reasons, and it’s healthy to offer quick forgiveness for their actions, or lack thereof. Their “best” on a given day might look like absolute garbage, but you’re not required to sign off on it. Your only job is to adjust your own self accordingly.

Now maybe you’re a genius like Brené and you know/do this already. But not me. I was over here constantly thinking of more ways that a person’s “best” could have looked A WHOLE LOT BETTER.

But that doesn’t affect them, does it? Nor does it do anything for me.

I take everything personally—and I like that about myself! See:

But, I’ve had to learn that people are…just doing stuff.

They’re not doing stuff TO ME.

(This is especially important when somebody in my vicinity is chewing on nuts.)

I can look at someone doing their thing, trust that it’s their best, and think to myself, “Self, how are we going to move forward here? By growing closer to them? Stating a need and see how it lands? Or by re-situating the relationship?”

Sometimes letting a person be a person means letting them go in some way. Never fun, but good for both of the person-being persons involved.

And sometimes it means allowing for surprise and grace to flow in through human connection in relationships that you didn’t always count on. Letting people be people can also look like letting them astonish, delight, thrill, and change you.

I believe every person is inherently good, and good at heart. It’s easier to state that belief than to act on it, because acting on it means that you actually have to trust that your way isn’t the only way. HARD!!!!!

But, a practice. A good habit.

A thing that makes life better, as I learned in good old 2024.

Wishing you a good new year full of beautiful changes and gentle lessons.