I hate New Year’s resolutions. 

I hate them because there is an underlying assumption that goes hand-in-hand with the determination to change things: There must be something wrong with me. From the time I was a little kid, I felt different, like I didn’t quite fit in. 

So by the time I was 8 years old, I was trying to be like my friends. I wanted to dress like them, talk like them, be short like them. There’s not much I could do about that when I shot up to 5’4” in the 4th grade. But I slouched all the same.

Now I understand what was different from my friends. It wasn’t my hair or my height. It was my queerness. But of course I didn’t know that at the time. So I started down a long path of self-improvement.

I’ve spent the majority of my 53 trips around the sun trying to fix myself. Be a better student, better musician, better writer, better teacher, better wife, better mom, better Christian…

I wanted to be...

Happy New Year. Elena Joy here. For some people, the holidays are a lovely change of pace from the rest of the year, a time to slow down and be with those they love. 

I celebrate those type of people who can find that rhythm for themselves. For me, the best day of the last two months has been January 2nd.

Because anyone like me, with some childhood and adult trauma around the holidays, has a very hard time staying present and grounded. And the pressure just lifts up so much once they’re over and the change is palpable. 

The thing that kept me grounded through the last two months has without a doubt been My Voice. I wrote a lot. While most years my writing routine goes out the window during the holiday upheaval, this year my writing routine was the only thing that didn’t implode about my day. 

The pressure to “celebrate” was minimal in the quiet and dark mornings. Curling up in a corner with my laptop and a big mug of tea felt like self-care. I...