Picture this: It’s 11:45 pm on December 31st, 2022. I’m sitting around my dining table along with my mother, partner, my dear friend, the notorious Lucky Sarah, and my 13-year-old son. On the table sits a cheese platter, two empty bottles of wine, and evidence of a recently devoured chocolate cake. My mother is wearing the sweater I knitted her for Xmas, and my son is complaining that his belly aches because he ate one too many slices of cake.
“Well, I know what my New Year's resolution is going to be this year,” announces my son. “I’m gonna start eating better and working out to be buff like Andrew Tate. Have you seen how ripped he is? But, Mom, I’m gonna need your help with the food part, OK? Like, I need you to stop buying treats. And please start making me healthier lunches, too. Hey, maybe that can be your New Year's resolution: help the whole family eat better.”
Now, if this were a Choose Your Own Adventure story, there are a plethora of directions this conversation could go. For a conversation on misogyny and toxic masculinity, go to page 56. For the gender division of labour, page 61. The list goes on. For the sake of this article, however, let’s shelve these hot topics and explore how Sarah, as she was running out the door, managed to hone in on something my son mentioned that, if it weren’t for her, may not have made it on to the list of conversation options: my New Year’s resolutions.
“I know you’ve got a lot on your plate,” she said. “But let’s have a one-on-one lunch date soon, OK? I genuinely want to hear what you hope to accomplish in 2023. Besides de-brainwashing your teenage son, that is. Ha! But, seriously, if you’re interested, take some time this week to write up a list of SMART goals. Like we did for our IDP. Remember? I’ll do the same. Then we can set up a regular check-in date to, you know, help motivate each other, hold each other accountable, etc.”
As I drifted off to sleep those first hours of 2023, I had an imaginary conversation with Sarah. “Sure,” I told her. “I do know where to find you. In your neat and tidy apartment, with your neat and tidy designer dog writing your neat and tidy lists of SMART goals that you will undoubtfully reach before I’ve managed to take down my Christmas decorations. Six months, max. I mean, you’re my best friend and everything, but sometimes I wonder if you know me at all. Why would you even suggest that I review my IDP and make a new list of SMART goals when you know I’m struggling to meet my professional and academic deadlines, never mind dealing with how I’m failing to raise a compassionate and respectful boy? Oh, yeah, now I remember: because I was compelled to do something similar just last month after you shined a spotlight on how much I’d been neglecting my well-being. I did review my IDP. And it did help me prioritize my needs. So I did cancel those few work events. I did take a week to do “nothing” to recharge my batteries and finish my mother’s Xmas sweater. And as a result, not only did nothing “bad” happen as I’d feared, but for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t berating myself for falling behind. I was pumped to explore the additional goal I’d added to the well-being section of my IDP: develop more self-compassion. But then I got off track again, didn’t I? And I’m struggling to prioritize again, aren’t I? And you saw that, didn’t you? Oh, Sarah, you’ve done it again.”
Now picture this: It’s 11:45 am on January 1st, 2023. I’m sitting alone at my dining room table. My mother and my partner are cleaning the kitchen while my son is doing arm curl-ups with cans of tomato soup. My son just asked me what I planned to make for lunch. I told him that it was high time he learned to cook for himself and that he could start by making everyone lunch as I was busy doing something much more important. On the table to the left of me is my IDP, opened to the list of SMART goals I’d established for myself in 2021, divided into three spheres: academic, professional and personal. The amount of goals I’d establish for myself is too exhaustive to list. What’s more exhausting is remembering how I achieved most of my academic and professional goals during a world pandemic. I’m thinking to myself that I should feel proud of these accomplishments but that I mustn’t forget the toll it took on my well-being. I’m also telling myself: 2021 and 2022 required an unprecedented amount of self-sacrifice; 2023, hopefully, will not. Hence why, to the right of me is a piece of paper with MY 2023 SMART GOALS: APPROACH WITH SELF COMPASSION written across the top. Beneath this, I’ve jotted down that SMART stands for Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant and Time-Bound. Next, in contrast to the umpteen goals I established in 2021 and keeping with my need not to become overloaded, is a list of ONLY three goals, one for each sphere.
Academic: submit an article for publication in XYZ journal by May. I will accomplish this goal by turning chapter four of my thesis into an article. I will write every Wednesday and hire a copy editor. Publication in XYZ journal will look excellent on my CV and increase my chances of landing an academic position when I’m ready to start applying this summer.
Professional: have a CV ready also by May. I will accomplish this by signing up for a CAPS CV writing workshop through myFuture. This will also increase my chances of landing an academic position.
Personal: continue to develop self-compassion skills so that I do not sacrifice my well-being needs and burn out again this year. I will accomplish this by 1) NOT adding any more academic and professional goals than is absolutely necessary to this list, 2) posting this list on my fridge and my workstation to ensure I review it regularly, 3) making an appointment with a counsellor at the Student Wellness Hub and registering for one, maybe two (max), workshops on self-compassion, 4) meeting regularly with Sarah to check in on how I am doing with this goal even if -- especially if --I find myself too busy to do so. Developing self-compassion skills will support the achievement of my goals in multiple ways, including helping me let go of paralyzing perfectionism that often hinders my productivity and helping me to recover from setbacks instead of getting stuck in endless rumination about what I “could” or “should” have done differently. Ultimately, it is my hope that accomplishing this goal will help me be a healthier academic, professional, mother and individual—the End.
Oh, and one more thing!
Picture this: It’s 12:45 pm on January 1st, 2023. I am still seated at my dining room table, now flanked by my partner and mother. My IDP and list of SMART goals have been moved to my bookshelf. My son has just served everyone the tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches he proudly made us. My partner turns to our son and calmly says, “So, I’ve been reading up on that Andrew Tate guy you admire so much, and I think it’s important that we discuss how dangerous..”
Meanwhile, I let out a deep sigh of relief that translates into Maybe I’m not doing such a bad job after all. And it’s certainly not a job I should be shouldering alone. Then I text Sarah: You free next Thursday?
For more information on how YOU can set SMART goals for 2023 watch our video series, download our planners, or sign up for one of our workshops.