It’s the Chinese New Year and I take it seriously. I join in the annual Chinatown parade (although this year I avoided the crowd), I adorn my apartment with red lanterns and hang the little animal trinkets for good luck. I’ve even been known to buy a dead fish just to carry it over to the new year. Ever since my Bad Year for Boars, I’ve given great credence to the traditions and horoscopes of the Chinese New Year. Though they can be found easily online, I get my horoscopes from my friend Alex’s mom (notably, she is the one who warned us that 2013 would be a bad year for boars).
Here’s what she says for the year of the rat, 2020:
My mom said for 2020 Boars you need to have opposite thinking. Flip it around. What everyone or you normally would do, do the opposite this year.
Opposite year, I said. Like George Costanza.
Oddly enough, I’ve already started 2020 differently from how I’ve started any year in recent memory: I’d set only three goals.
Of course I have a hashtag to help guide my year (#takethepowerback), and Alex and I, along with our friends and spouses, did our annual “Burn”. Every New Year’s Eve, we reflect upon and commemorate the past year by writing a list of all the bad things that happened in that year. And then we burn it. We also write a list of all the good things we hope to happen in the coming year and burn that too. Sometimes these are simple wishes, sometimes they are resolutions, but for me, most often they are like a business plan for life, outlined with bullet points separated into every facet from work to health, family, social life, education, and pursuits of fun and adventure.
My goals are always lofty. I’m reminded of, “Run every day” or “Six pack abs” (lol). “Hit x revenue.” “Journal every night.” “Read the full NYT every day.” “Surf every weekend.” All this along with single-handedly running a small business, and then becoming a mom.
I have realized that the way I work is to try to overachieve, to set my goals extremely high. And though I fall short of reaching them, at least I’ll land pretty high. I’d argue that I’ve landed higher than if I had set my goals realistically. Yet this strategy has always left me disappointed in myself.
This year I needed a change. I didn’t want to have the nagging feeling of disappointment, of chasing the next and the next thing. I know that is a blessed trait of the entrepreneur, but after reflecting on ten years of building MilkMade, I have just one regret: I wish I enjoyed the journey more.
Initially I did write my lists for 2020: I started outlining an ice cream book, I put limits on my take-out and plastic consumption, I vowed to write more, to read a book a week, to revisit photography.
Then my husband suggested that I don’t do anything. Perhaps I should take some time to reset after ten years of back-breaking work, spend time with our son, and just enjoy New York for the first time in a long time.
I realized that is exactly the way to take the power back. So I abandoned my lofty business plan and for 2020 set just three goals: teach Crosby how to swim, finally read The Power Broker, and learn how to make the perfect rugbrød.
Happy New Year!