at the very least, it'll be a good story.

Knowing when to say goodbye or take the risk.

The new year lends itself to new opportunities and new resolutions, sure, but it also lends itself to letting go. As we venture into a year that might be overhyped or might be just as overwhelming as the last, I've recently found the value of evaluating the ghost of decisions past. And while reflection certainly isn't a revolutionary concept, I can't help but go back to the roots of what resolutions are all about.

Letting go or taking risks.

Let me stop you in your tracks: You may think I'm going to blabber on about healthy eating choices and productive work sessions, but those who know me well enough know those never seem to land on my runway of a successful resolution.

Rather, I'd like to explore the negative habits, relationships, fears -- the pitfalls we practically shovel out for ourselves to fall right back into. Into the abyss, we slide, yet we somehow think we see a light. The further we dig into these bad habits, routines, games, whatever you want to call it, the more light we think we see; the more excuses we make for how we got in so deep in the first place. Because as soon as the crack of daylight escapes our peripherals, we realize we've been holding a flashlight all along. We replace the natural light with artificial, we cover up our bruises with concealer, and we lie to ourselves that our downward spiral will be flipped upside down.

As vague as that analogy is, I can imagine that we can all apply it to something in our life. Though a physical addiction may be the most obvious, I'm referring to the subconscious or subtle addictions that we all have, regardless of if you are a self-prescribed obsessive type or think you've got this whole life thing under control. These addictions crystallize in the form of feelings, false affirmations, relationships: anything, or anyone, that protects us from our core fears.

When scrutinizing our innate compulsions, fixations, or tollbooths on the road to a freeing life, we have to consider the options of saying goodbye or taking a risk. I'm not going to lie to you and claim that all of these habits are inherently toxic. I am, in fact, a self-prescribed obsessive type and proudly consider that to be a defining personality trait. I get obsessed with movies, music, marshmallows; you name something sweet or sultry or spiritual and I'm there. These rituals are constructive to who we are as people -- but only sometimes are they helping us construct who we want to be.

When making any decision, or giving advice to a friend, I've trained myself to immediately think of the consequences. That comes off too harsh for my sunny disposition, so perhaps reverberation is a better word, even if this isn't a musical moment (which, by the way, would be a dream come true). "Consequence" is too linear with its negative connotation. "Reverberation," however, is the prolongation of a sound; it's the resonance that fills the room, and once the note is played, that ominous noise becomes one with the air. It can a beautiful satisfaction or an unsettling regret. Or, because sound is a limitless spectrum with infinite options, the reverberation can rest somewhere in between.

Every decision you make reverberates. Even if no one else in your life hears the repetitive rings, or tastes them diluted into the air, you always will. When making a decision, regardless of its gravity, my strategy is to always predict the worst and best outcome. If the best outweighs the worst, which is more common than not, you have your answer. But if the worst's haunting hymn rings in your ears, it may not be worth digging into it as the pitfall patiently awaits you.

Now, this may have all been too dramatic to start off a new year considering what I'm about to say. In most of my decisions and in most of the "advice" I give, the "worst-case scenario" and "best-case scenario" outcomes are uniform: "Hey, at the very least, it'll be a good story."

If a life experience hurts others, hurts yourself, or digs your tunnel deeper, say goodbye. If a life experience is perilous but nevertheless enthralling, take the risk.

So, as we venture into the new year, I challenge you to stop digging that hole just to jump into it. Evaluate your decisions, perform some preventative analysis, and rely on daylight to fuel your life rather than batteries.

to, at the very least, being a good story,

caroline hughes