I used to be great at making plans and following through with them. I was the kind of person who set New Year’s resolutions and actually kept them. I lost 100 pounds and kept it off. I hiked 1,000 miles in a year. I paid off a mountain of credit card debt. I was really proud of that tenacity and willpower.

But, my new life with chronic disease is full of uncertainty and chaos. These days, trying to make plans, goals, and resolutions feels mostly like a set-up for disappointment and failure.

Having pemphigus is forcing me to let go of the achievement aspect of my personality. I can’t commit to finite, measurable goals anymore.

Instead of traditional New Year’s resolutions, I have come up with a list of hopes. I also have a couple intentions – things I will attempt as my circumstances allow.

Hope is the thing with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all

Emily Dickinson nailed it – hope really is like a little, fragile bird perched in our soul. It’s momentary and it may fly off at any moment, but it also might stick around and sing through life’s storms.

I want the new year to be gentle and kind to me. I want quiet and uneventful peace. I don’t want extreme highs if they come paired with extreme lows. Please, 2025… can I just have my life stay on a nice, even keel for a little while?

The things I hope for specifically:

• Remission of my autoimmune disease
• Physical healing of the wounds left behind by it
• Freedom to leave medical isolation and have a full human experience
• Fewer doctor’s appointments
• Having more spontaneous, unbidden moments of joy
• Good health for my family, pets, and friends

Intentions instead of resolutions

When I make a resolution, I make a firm commitment to a tangible goal. With a resolution, I either pass or fail – there is no gray area. I think that’s why it’s so easy to give up on a resolution. If you stray a little, you’ve failed and may as well give up.

Intentions feel softer to me. They exist fully in the gray area. Intentions have a process rather than an end point.

Making an intention feels like I’m proclaiming my desire to take steps in a certain direction.

With intentions, you acknowledge that progress isn’t linear. You accept that the process may have to change course given your current circumstance or reality. You give yourself grace when you stumble or when things unfold more slowly than expected.

Intentions just feel more my speed these days. These are my two intentions for 2025:

• I intend to make better use of my time
• I intend to cultivate a quieter, more patient mind

I know these are very vague intentions. But wasting time and being anxious are weaknesses I’ve thought about often over the past year.

I’m still working on what steps might be part of the processes. I definitely foresee messiness, speed bumps, and set backs – but hopefully there will be growth and progress too.

Happy New Year!