New Year’s resolution/goal/thing I want to accomplish

Richie has made some really good and attainable resolutions for the new year. Lynn, on the other hand, is forgoing resolutions and instead is setting smart and health goals. I not sure what the difference is between a resolution and a goal, but we learned last year that Lynn can not only set lofty goals, but she can achieve them (every time I drive over the Monument, I'm impressed with Lynn's Rimrock Run finish). When Lynn first started talking about her goal to finish the almost-marathon over the Colorado National Monument, I was a bit jealous. Not because I, too, wanted to train for the run, but because I wanted to have something lofty for which to strive and train. Maybe for MY 50th birthday, I'll take on the Rimrock Run. But for my 40th birthday which still is more than a year away still, I have set a personal goal that I may or may not share on this blog. Time will tell. But I do have a goal and/or resolution that is very important for this year and it gives me an anxiety attack just thinking about it. My goal is to set a good example for my daughter when it comes to my own self-esteem. Gah, just writing those words down is causing my chest to inwardly implode and is sending me chasing down my crazy pills. I know that self-esteem is very important for everyone, especially for young girls. I want my daughter to know in her heart that she has the ability to achieve anything she wants. She's bright, she loves to be challenged, she works hard and plays hard. In short, she has everything going for her. I also know that just telling her these things isn't enough. I heard recently that it isn't enough to talk to your kids about self-esteem, but you have to demonstrate a positive self-esteem. I don't know where I heard this but it immediately struck a chord deep down within me. (I googled "self-esteem" and "daughters," but one of the first results was something Dr. Phil wrote, so I'm pretending that I didn't google that — instead I'm just choosing not to look for the source.) And that's when my anxiety level shoots through the roof and I feel like I'm having a massive coronary. I reached a point in my life a couple years ago when I realized that I'm wrong sometimes and that it's OK to admit that. I also realized that I have a lot to learn. I know that I have a weakness in my personality that makes me lash out at those that love me the most. I'm not as smart as I think I am. I don't eat right ... blah, blah, blah. When I realized those things, instead of recognizing them and working to usurp these shortcomings, I adopted them as my daily mantras. My weaknesses have become who I am. I can't count how many times a day I say: I'm so stupid; I'm so slow; I'm so angry with myself; I'm so weak; I'm pathetic; on and on ad nauseum. That is my primary inner dialog and a lot of my external dialog, too. (I can't even explain how light-headed I am right now from all the blood pooling in and around my anxiety centers and leaving non to work my hands and brain. Typing has become very hard. Breathe, breathe, there, OK.) So my goal for the year is to show my daughter that I am smart and relevant to her life and that I, too, can show her important things even though I don't cook. I want her to see the things that I've achieved and that it's never to late to follow your dreams. So to start this whole thing off, I'm going to write some of my achievements. Believe me, I'd much rather be revealing a nasty truth about myself — like that I wear black every day because I can't put together a decent outfit. Making fun of myself is the easiest thing to do. I love playing my own whipping boy. Saying nice things about myself makes me feel like I'm dying. But because it's important, I'm gonna give it a try: I finished my Bachelor's degree in four years and my master's degree in three. And it wasn't hard (fighting ... the urge ... to point out ... that if I had worked harder I would have gained so much more ... ). I've only been playing the guitar for five years and I'm decently OK at it — I'm no virtuoso, but I do a good job for my band. (I don't know ... how much more ... of this I can take ... I need a beer and several more crazy pills.) I think I'm funny and I crack myself up all the time (although this might be a sign of mental illness). I've got to stop before I pass out. At least it's a start. I wonder if I have to do this again or if I'm cured.