Happy New Year, everyone! After the trash fire that was 2017, I think most of us are looking for change, if not outright reinvention. It’s been interesting to read up on people’s resolutions. I have some writer friends who are focusing on the positive in the world (we all could use more of that). Other friends are beginning new reading challenges. It seems most everyone I know has latched onto one permutation or another of diet and weight loss goals, like eating more healthy food or actually going to the gym for once (no thanks).

For me, though, the landscape is a bit more dreary. It’s finally time for me to admit that despite my outward energy and good spirits, the inside isn’t working the way it should. The political climate hasn’t helped. Both of my kids have (mostly) flown the nest and are in college, which is great, but awfully lonely sometimes. I have a house that’s never clean, a roof that needs replacing, and cash flow issues (a perennial problem with this English/theater major). Writing has stalled on the novel and blogging fronts. And I’m terrible at self-care. The folks who love me best have noticed, and this year, they called me out on it. Check out this grouping of presents: two books on conquering perfectionism and a massage membership.

Busted.

The evil of perfectionism is that no matter how well you do, you can always find a flaw somewhere. Your effort is just okay. It’s never enough. Problems are your fault, your failing. It’s exhausting. And talking about it just seems like whining when you know people who have real, serious problems to negotiate, like disease and grief and destruction.

And yet despite all the gloom, there is always hope. I married a terrific man. I have family who get it, colleagues to help shoulder burdens, and dogs. And I have longtime friends who are essentially sisters of the heart who can comfort and help nudge me back in line when things go off the rails. The books are from them, of course.

Florida treasure Gloria Estefan was nearly killed in an accident in 1990. Her song “Coming out of Dark,” released in 1991, was her way of thanking the people who loved and supported her during her long recovery.

Why be afraid if I’m not alone
Though life is never easy the rest is unknown
Up to now for me it’s been hands against stone
Spent each and every moment
Searching for what to believe

Coming out of the dark, i finally see the light now
It’s shining on me
Coming out of the dark I know the love that saved me
You’re sharing with me

Starting again is part of the plan
And I’ll be so much stronger holding your hand
Step by step I’ll make it through I know I can
It may not make it easier but I have felt you
Near all the way

Coming out of the dark, i finally see the light now
It’s shining on me
Coming out of the dark I know the love that saved me
You’re sharing with me

Forever, forever I stand on the rock of your love
Forever I’ll stand on the rock
Forever, forever I stand on the rock of your love
Love is all it takes, no matter what we face

I don’t have anything like a near-fatal bus wreck to look back on as the source of my troubles, but I sure do have people who love me—even if they are bossy and I don’t want to admit they’re right. If you’re looking at 2018 with more trepidation than hope, look for your people, too. The light is always shining. Pet the dog. Ditch the bra at the door. Wear the damned yoga pants. Eat the chocolate. Happy New Year.