Hello Again: Q2 Check In On 2020 Goals
Rereading my Q1 goal wrap-up to prepare for writing this one made me cry.
I’ve been crying fairly regularly lately—the complete dissolution of some of the major parts and people in your life will do that do you—and this wasn’t a particularly bad jag. Just a few chest-shaking, staccato-breathing moments and a couple of sharp inhales. My face didn’t turn red; my eyes didn’t burn; my collarbone stayed free of puddled tears. An easy one, all things considered.
I let my breathing fall back into an even cadence, then started to write.
Here we are: figuring out how to hold ourselves accountable during a pandemic.
Here we are: considering goals a different person wrote for herself and recognizing what doesn’t fit quite right.
Here we are: reigning in the impulse to edit and rewrite in real time.
Here we are: accepting that the contours of our current world don’t look or feel in any way familiar—that even though that feeling is especially acute for me, it’s something everyone, everywhere, is experiencing—and acknowledging that we’re all clumsily fumbling around, accidentally bumping into things and trying to learn from it, as we try to chart our way to the other side.
Because the only way out is through.
For so long, I’ve had goals and plans for myself, even when I was setting out to be goal- and plan-less (see: what I wanted to get out of my 6-month sabbatical, back when that’s what I thought I was doing). I measured myself against them, every quarter or so, holding up my actions to my intentions and seeing where I fell short and where I could improve. I’ve done that since I was in high school, and it felt natural. It felt like me.
But now I’m in this position where I don’t really recognize myself. I find myself in the throes of painful new emotions. I don’t trust myself enough—or, said differently, I know I don’t know enough—to make big new plans, or to update my goals and re-commit to them, or even to have a sense of what I’ll be sure about in another three months.
It feels like being the ground as the glaciers started to melt.
I can suss out the edges of the basins left behind by the ice sheets making their retreat—can poke at them like a loose tooth—and can imagine that they’ll be different once the glaciers are all gone. I can visualize the basins filling up with fresh water, smoothing out their edges, preparing to play host to life in a completely different form. But until I’m actually a body of water where only flat land existed before, I can’t begin to know what being a lake would feel like.
All that to say: I won’t try to. I’m not going to try to completely rewrite the goals I wrote in January, when the world and I were both different. I’m not going to try to imagine how what I’m doing now will or will not inspire different goals in 2021. I’m going to do a mark to market, and be honest and transparent because that’s the only way worth being, and capture this particular moment of vulnerable not-knowing in the long arc of vulnerable not-knowing that is life.
So let’s begin.
Keep traveling to new places and reflecting on who I am in them.
1. Travel continuously. How? Be on the road for at least four months of the year.
You know what? I’ll count this as a win. January was spent completely on the road, and then February, March, April, and May were all spent in Antigua. While that wasn’t technically “on the road”—no moving around—it was still a new place, one I got to know very well, and certainly one I spent a lot of time reflecting in. And now I’m here in Michigan, moving around a bit between friends and family, trying to find some kind of normalcy. Within myself, at least.
I wrote last check-in about being ready to find a home and settle down. I was hoping to do that with Diego. Now that we’re not together, I don’t think I want to try to do that on my own, and particularly not during a pandemic, when building a real-life community is structurally more difficult and dangerous. So even now, I’m still doing a version of continuous travel, even if it feels more like treading water than swimming from points A to B to C. When I can see a shore, I’ll swim there.
2. Keep figuring out where I want to call home. How? Travel the rest of Central America and see if there’s anywhere that feels like home. Write a list of qualities I’d like in my future home + a list of places that come close. Figure out where to go after a US trip mid-next year and go there.
Well, let’s see now. Last time, I wrote that this was on track to be a fail, but that seems more based on the fact that the “how” was going to be impossible to do (closed borders! US road trip with someone I’m no longer with! pandemic!). I think this is at least a maybe. I don’t think there’s a place in Central America I feel super drawn to for long-term living (though I do hope to make it to Costa Rica and Nicaragua and all those other places one day to confirm that). I still love and miss Buenos Aires, and maybe will have another chapter there one day. Right now, I’m noodling on spending some significant time in Europe next year, with the goal of getting a sense of what the kind of socialized / community-first policies I believe in look like overlaid on a developed economy and whether I feel at home there. But I’m not saying that’ll be right, either, because like I spent the intro to this blog explaining, I’m in no position to know right now.
I can and will share some of what I realize I want in a place to live and call home:
- Easy access to nature. Water is the most desirable, followed by mountains, followed by forests.
- Diverse. People of all races, backgrounds, religions, and other identities feel comfortable there. I’m not surrounded by only copies of myself and I’m also not the odd one out.
- Generally affordable. Can live in at least a one-bedroom apartment without it costing more than a third to half of my monthly budget. Housing opportunities are diverse enough to allow for mixing of people of different backgrounds and classes in the same community.
- Art- and craft- and food-centric. Museums, independent bookstores, small restaurants, murals, farmers’ markets, libraries, and theaters are plentiful and accessible. The city offers a robust cultural calendar and opportunities to constantly learn or experience new things.
- Local government that takes care of residents. Ideally, this would be a country-level value, too, but even if I stay in the U.S. in the near term and we don’t get universal healthcare passed by then, I still want to be in a state or city that offers things like healthcare, childcare, high-quality education, and other assistance. This is one of the biggest issues I have about the States—I regularly felt safer and better taken care of in developing countries like Colombia (not to mention fully developed ones like New Zealand!) re: health, wellness, and catastrophes than I feel in my own home country.
- Clean, plentiful air. No major pollution that makes breathing a problem. No higher than ~5,000 feet or so, otherwise I get a host of head / sleeping / digestive issues that I probably could work through with months of effort and discomfort but am not really interested in doing right now.
I don’t know what place lines up with all of that just yet. Could it be London? Is it a smaller town in California? Chicago? The Canary Islands? I’m not close to an answer, but at least the rubric is—for now—a little better-defined.
3. Reflect on how travel influences me and teaches me. How? Write at least one big travel-focused reflection essay a quarter.
On track to be a win, though I may have to broaden this beyond travel later down the line. I’ll count my Q2 essay on watching the pillars of my life fall down count.
Maintain financial independence while pursuing a balance of professional and lifestyle fulfillment.
1. Make enough money writing and editing to fund my travels while not working so much I can’t enjoy the travel itself. How? Make 3k/month while not working more than 20 hours/week and help enable Diego’s growing business so I can count on him for more.
My part is very much a win. Diego and his business are no longer big parts of my life, though I wish him the best.
On my side, I’ve been able to double that goal while keeping in mind my ideal schedule. Now that travel isn’t a thing, I’m thinking of upping my working hours and trying to just bank as much money as I can for whatever I decide to do next…though part of me wants to just try to make lots more money while staying at my current schedule to get a better read on how far I can take this lifestyle, if I do want to keep working/traveling when that’s possible again.
Or really just working/living. Even if I was just traveling around my own city and life, taking pottery classes and going for long walks and cooking multi-course dinners, I would want the kind of freedom and fulfillment that being financially secure while also completely in charge of my own time provides.
Lots to think about here, and hopefully to write about later, too.
2. Manage money responsibly. How? Keep daily travel tracker, pay off 2019 taxes and get ahead of 2020 quarterly taxes, and develop better system for invoicing.
Should be a win. Daily tracker fell off a little, but I’ll get back to it; taxes are under control; and I’m in the middle of redoing all the logistics of my money management, actually, setting up a high-yield checking account and automatic deposits to an IRA and all! Doing this over the last few days has let me have a little illusion of control that I think has been very soothing for my anxious brain.
3. Maintain nest egg. Stretch goal: contribute to it. How? Do not touch “back to real life” savings and ideally, add to them.
Should be a win, for the stretch goal, too. That’s the nice thing about making almost double the money I thought I would: I still have some left! There have been unexpected expenses, like a ridiculously expensive flight home, but I still plan to start saving.
Grow as a writer and creator.
1. Work with more editors and reach more readers. How? Publish in at least five new outlets, at least one of which to be print. Specifically, I’d like to write more book reviews, women at work stories, tech stories, travel pieces, and personal essays this year.
A win, even as the industry continues to cannibalize itself. (I’m still glad that reporting stories and writing essays is just part of my income; I couldn’t handle the stress and insecurity of chasing ever-decreasing freelance budgets were that the only way to get paid.) Had Slate and the WSJ in Q1. Was meant to have Curbed, Forbes, and Airbnb Magazine in Q2; those stories are either on hold or were killed due to budget cuts and pivoting to different content, but I’m hoping at least one of them will go up by EOY. Should have another dream pub go in up within the next couple of weeks, and still have plenty of time to officially get another one or two published. Still interested in telling women’s stories and in using my own life as a lens to investigate other topics.
2. Grow my community. How? Be active on writing Twitter and use that + Instagram to connect with other writers, maintain relationships with editors, and host some kind of writing event (not unlike my 2019 Galentines event, but focused on writing specifically).
On track to be a maybe. Last week, I made a truly meaningful, lovely connection with a writer I’ve admired for a while; while that was a bit of a one-off, I’ve also recently done a podcast interview with a creator and writer I met and really hit it off with. So two-offs? I won’t be hosting an event anytime soon, and not even sure I need my community to be specifically other writers versus also other creators and freelancers. But will keep trying to be myself and connect with people whose selves I also like.
3. Be a top-notch content marketer and continue to gain professional experience to build into a career, if and when I stop traveling. How? Have at least 5 regular corporate clients and pitch new ones at least once a month, and ask for and act on their feedback.
Hmm. A win, I think; I now have 5+ regular corporate clients and have kept pitching new ones, to some success. I need to get better at regularly asking for feedback, though I am doing a good job of doing so on an ad-hoc basis.
Love and honor my body and brain.
1. Be active on a regular basis. How? Hit at least 10,000 steps a day.
A fail for now. Hovering around 9,000 steps/day for 2020, with lulls in April and May (depression! breakup! pandemic! curfew! cobblestone streets hard to wander!) not yet fully offset. But now that I’m back in the States, daily walks have been one of the few things that make me feel calmer and better, without fail.
2. Eat better. How? Eat vegetables every day, dessert NOT every day, and eat meat 3-4x/week versus every day. Honestly, if I could just reverse the amount of chocolate and the amount of spinach I eat, I’d be golden. The meat thing is both for my health (the meat I most often eat is usually red meat or highly processed meat, neither of which is ideal) and for the environment’s health.
Downgraded to a maybe. I was eating really well in Antigua for a while, then came home and either ate poorly, ate way too much, or didn’t eat anything. Trying to re-find balance and am doing so, but daily dessert and regular meat consumption have been big parts of that. So there.
3. Continue to find ways I love to be active—and do them. How? When in one place for a while, find a Pilates studio and do that. When not, take dance classes, go for long walks, and do circuit training while I watch TV—but be active more regularly, all around.
A win! Am on my long walk game and am on week 12 of doing Kayla at least three times a week, even when it feels like pushing myself through molasses to do it. I love the way I feel afterwards and want to keep up.
4. Read constantly and widely. How? Read three books a month, at least one of which is not a novel. Keep tracking my reading, sharing my recommendations, and asking for friends’.
Looks like it’s still a win, though barely. I only read 15 books in the second quarter. That’s a few less than normal, which I think is due to feeling like I couldn’t read for the first month post-breakup. I couldn’t handle diving into someone else’s love story and heartbreak and healing while I was still so very affected by my own. I wouldn’t say I’m healed, not by a long shot, but I am feeling more balanced, and have started reading again in the last few weeks. It is again a salve.
Three were memoirs and one was an essay collection, so I’m still good on the nonfiction front.
5. Actually get better at reading in Spanish. How? Read one article a week in Spanish and discuss it with a Spanish-speaking friend.
Complete fail. Maybe I’ll try to do this with Brinley this week. Just have not prioritized it at all, but now that I’m not speaking Spanish every day, I’m starting to wonder how I can keep up with it. I should try to improve this.
6. Try new things and be unafraid to fail at them. How? I’ll let myself not have determined all the answers re: things that might interest me, but some to start with: making sourdough bread, getting better at salsa dancing, learning more pottery and ceramics, learning the piano, picking up a new language, making jam, rock climbing, and more.
Hmmmm. This is a maybe, I’d say. I haven’t really been in the mental or physical space to try new things this quarter. A few new dishes, yes—I’ve made dumplings and empanadas and perfected my chocolate-chip cookie recipe—but not much beyond that.
But I’ve also been thinking and reflecting about how important it is to me to be content with simple joys. Some of my favorite things to do are to go for walks, to read books, to sit outside, to eat new foods…none of which requires much experimentation. I think the intent behind this goal is more the “unafraid” part versus the “new things” part—I don’t want to ever let pride or fear keep me from exploring something.
But I also don’t want to feel like I should bounce from activity to activity trying to optimize for getting more and more enjoyment. I’ve done that in other arenas and I know now that the level of contentedness I feel with my regular rotation of activities is just right.
Invest in my relationships and communities, even (or especially) when I’m on the road.
1. Continue to grow with Diego. How? Keep the magic and romance alive while we’re traveling with surprises and generosity. Work on stretching my patience for the things we always clash over: money, controlling situations, family ideals. Give him my time and support as he grows his business.
Well, well. A fail, I suppose. We couldn’t grow together in the end. And even typing that breaks my heart and threatens my tear ducts again. I so very wanted this to come true. I wanted to have been a better person for him. I wanted him to have been a better person for me. I wanted to be able to grow and change and be prouder of the person I was in our relationship. I wanted him to be a person excited for that growth, too, and ready to do it with me even when it got hard. I wanted our love to be enough.
But it wasn’t, and none of the things I wanted came true in the end.
That’s not fair, actually. Many of the things I wanted did come true. Wanting to feel loved and supported and cherished, wanting to love and support and cherish someone else, wanting to experience true romance and passion, wanting to build a home and a life together, wanting to share the thrill of travel with someone who was my friend and my partner and my confidant—all of that did happen. I got so much of what I’d hoped for out of our relationship. It was beautiful and I’ll always be grateful for it, even as it hurts to know it’s over.
I had hoped that it wouldn’t end, though, and it did. So here we are. This is probably one of the few goals I do know enough now to know that I should rewrite. Let’s call it this: Re-learn how to be alone and to be enough.
2. Be a good sister and a good daughter. How? Love and accept my family. Call often. Be generous with time, forgiveness, and money. Spend a week+ with my family at least once in 2020.
I’d call this a maybe. This hasn’t always looked like how I thought it would. But I’m trying, I’m hurting, and I’m learning, certainly.
3. Stay in touch with my friends and show them love. How? Prioritize the money and time to show up at their weddings. Call regularly—catch up with at least one person at length each week. See friends in person and invite them to come to me when I’m in one place for a while. Acknowledge that regularity does not make a friendship, but that depth of connection does, and prioritize maintaining that.
A win, though the “how” looks a lot different in a pandemic. My friends have been incredible support over the last few months and I’m very grateful for them and very much committed to continue to show up for them like they have for me.
Halfway through 2020, and very much braced for impact
The last three months haven’t looked anything like what I thought they’d be.
They have been a good, if extremely painful, reminder that I know nothing. That plans only take you so far. That life is and always will be all about the balancing act between doing your best to make every moment count and your complete acceptance that your sphere of influence over it all is nearly nonexistent.
I will keep breathing through it.
See you in three months.
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