We’re almost a month into another new year and most of us have probably already broken all our resolutions. Mine might not be broken, but they have taken a bit of a beating. Why do we even make these promises to ourselves? Promises like losing weight, working out more, being an overall better person?

I’m as guilty as anyone. This year it was all the usual promises, plus the vow that I would write a minimum of 1000 words a day on my next novel. That’s roughly 4-5 pages. Doesn’t sound so hard, right? Well, that depends on the day and the scene/chapter. I recognized from the beginning there would be days this wouldn’t be feasible. Days like Christmas, or when I have the chance to spend an afternoon playing with my grandson. (He’s only little for a short time.) There was the weekend I had a stomach bug I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But there were also the days I decided to check out a new Netflix series over my morning coffee with the promise to only watch one episode, yet spent the entire day binging the first season. Then, I loved the show so much, I started right in binging season two the next morning.

Rather than looking at this as a failure, throwing up my hands and saying maybe next year. It just means I start over as if today was the first day of a new year. Every day is the first day of a new year. So, I’m back on the horse with a few stricter rules for myself (all those streaming services are for evening watching). If I fall off the wagon, or it’s a day where there are other more important things to do (i.e., playing with my grandson), I forgive myself and keep going the next day.

Every morning you wake up is a gift. Use it wisely and start all over. If it doesn’t work out, remember, tomorrow is another new day, and you can try again.