If the Mayans are Wrong: 5 Things That Aren’t Invited to My 2013

 As December 21, 2012 approaches, I see various people – via social and traditional media – keeping count.

It’s the end of the world.

Or, perhaps, as R.E.M. once gleefully sang, “It’s the end of the world as we know it. And I feel fiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.”

Let’s error on the side of caution. And assume that the world continues to spin on its axis, the sun continues to rise and our bosses still wait for our morning arrival? What then? Will it feel anti-climatic? Will we, after the hoopla, feel short-changed? Will all those who stocked up a year’s worth of batteries, bottled water and remaining Twinkie inventory realize that they just maxed out a credit card for no good reason?

December 20, 2012, may hold the same anticipatory stress as December 31, 1999, when the threat of Y2K lingered anxiously over banks and other corporations so dramatically it synthetically contributed to the IT boom in the late ’90s.  Or, perhaps, it will manifest in something else entirely. Something we don’t quite know at this moment. Which is good.

If the Mayan calender doesn’t bring an apocalypse, perhaps it’s simply giving us a fresh start. A new chance at doing things and doing them well. An opportunity to assess what no longer belongs in our complicated and busy lives and to clear all that out in order to make room for what matters most: the authentic, the loving, the kind. The funny, the fun and the fantastic.

Since change begins with the self, as Michael Jackson so eloquently sang in “The Man in the Mirror,” below is my list of things things that, if the Mayans don’t take with them, I’m leaving at the curb.

1. Negativity – This manifests itself any time I feel like having a “wo is me” pity party. This usually happens when I feel slighted by something or someone. The best solution is not to give those people any more of my time. They are happiest when I (or others around them) are down, but rarely have anything kind to say when the good things happen.  This year, this occurred in a professional relationship. Because it feels best to be kicked when one’s down. I already have enough self-doubt.  I don’t need the anti-Spanx of a support system.

2. Judgement – The past few years threw too many people I care about under the bus. The economy shook the globe to the core and good, hard-working people have had to do what they had to do in order to survive. Some went from making six figures to using food stamps to feed their families. Others left corporate and worked at coffee shops. How others live their lives, short of self-destruction, lying or breaking the law, is not for me or anyone else to judge. If they become strippers, may they be the best strippers they can possibly be.

3. Mediocrity – If the past four years have been so deeply rooted in surviving, then the next four must pivot to thriving. So much energy has been sucked by demands that could have never been met because those demands shouldn’t have ever been committed to in the first place.  Now that things have calmed down and, most of those storms weathered, there’s a new found mental freedom to pursue a life that’s mine to have. Being average, or accepting anything that is, just won’t cut it anymore. I don’t want anything that’s a median, a mean or a mode. Unless, of course, it’s more Depeche Mode.

4. Excuses –  Whether it’s about my creative goals or my health, there’s no more room for the b.s. that I’ve been telling myself all this time. Truth is, every excuse is simply an absolution of my own responsibilities towards myself. When it comes to my clients and my students, I give them everything I have in order to foster, grow and support their careers.  They get the best of me. Oh, where’s David Grohl when you really need him?

5. Sadness – My Dad once called me a social butterfly for a reason: I was always at a party, either attending as guest or throwing one where anyone would and did meet anyone. In the past four years so many of my Cleveland friends left town that I started to take it personally. I started to feel abandoned. This isn’t rational. Friendships aren’t rational. They’re emotional. And they’re personal. This year alone, two more close friends and two acquaintances left Ohio, three for California, one to my old hood Chicago. I still miss them. But I can no longer be sad that they’re not here. Because they are exactly where they need to be, for their lives and their happiness. The Oprah Show is over.  No use in making one feel guilty if I can’t go on national television to do so.

This extended season of transition has been anything but simple. And, as an adjunct professor and a career coach, I’ve had to live two lives: the very public one, that is optimistic, energized and wise persona, and the private one, that’s been trying to juggle ten burning objects while standing on one broken toe attached to a sprained ankle, not realizing that the ground beneath me had turned to quicksand.

The fires are mostly out. The breathing can, once again, begin. And where there’s breathing, there’s clarity.  Hopefully the only sand my toes will feel this year is the sand of a big, beautiful, blue ocean beach.  I’ve missed the beach. And I know the beach has missed me.

Which is another reason why the Mayans got it wrong.

Because this girl’s gotta get it right, again.

Cabo Beach Photo: A. Sukhoy, 2008.

All other images: Google.