Every year at the beginning of January, I gather with my friend Ashley and her family among piles of craft paper, bags of colored pencils, and reams of dreams. We trace our hands onto the fancy paper, and on each finger, write one of our New Year’s resolutions. (Yes, I still support New Year’s resolutions; don’t @ me.)
With four of my resolutions solidified in marker on my hand—so you know I was serious—I struggled for a fifth. “What about a self-care goal?” someone helpfully suggested. I scrunched my nose and narrowed my eyes, looking at her with a mixture of blankness and derision.
I don’t really vibe with the
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