by Mick Rhodes | editor@claremont-courier.com

It’s safe to say we all want to be better. That’s what New Year’s resolutions are all about, right? We envision a slimmer, smarter, healthier version of ourselves, get all wide-eyed optimistic on January 1 and pledge to make it happen.

Some of my past resolutions have included losing weight, joining a gym, stopping drinking, and writing a book.

None have held past January.

Thankfully, one of the advantages of becoming a gray-haired senior citizen is not giving a crap. I’m not saying I’ve given up on the essential stuff like taking care of my family or stifling my ever-seething, barely discernable rage. No, I’m talking about common stressors like standing still for unprovoked sales pitches, or accepting casual cruelty or ignorance. I just don’t care about walking away from this stuff anymore. It’s liberating, this geezer status.

I’ve also begun to cut myself some slack for slacking. What’s stopping drinking going to do for me at my age? Plus, I’m so good at it! Yes, my pants are tight, and I’ve taken on vaguely pear-like dimensions. Still, I’ve got the hottest wife in the known universe, and she’ll still be seen with me; why risk it by changing my appearance? And the gym is out. I’m more of a solitary exercise guy. And who wants that debit from the checking account month after month to remind you that it’s been what … eight months since you’ve been there?

The point here is we are not necessarily obligated to jump aboard the seasonally trendy self-improvement bandwagon. Do you feel okay? Do your kids mostly like you? Are you north of bankrupt? If you answered yes to some or all of these, well then, you deserve a pat on the back and cocktail. It ain’t easy staying afloat, especially in Southern California. No need to get all nervous about your station or waistline. Take a gap year.

Folks are touting the value of “self-care” everywhere these days, and I’ve learned to use it to my advantage. For example, brows have been known to furrow at the father who has Domino’s delivered to his hungry children on the weekly. In my defense, not everyone has enough time in the day to have a nutritionally balanced hot meal on the table at 6 p.m. every night. So, pizza. Or, as I call it, self-care. Same goes for thrifting, my low-budget, low-risk obsession/hobby. I certainly don’t need that seventh pearl snap button denim cowboy shirt, but it’s my size, dammit, and it makes me feel good. Self-care again.

I’m sure you have your own versions of these personalized self-care rituals. Most anything that isn’t empirically dangerous or horrible for you or others could technically fall into the category. It’s pretty much a catch-all when you think about it. So in this new year, why not exercise your right not to exercise? Odd numbers freak you out? Maybe 2026 is a better year for you to get that six-pack. You just go out get yourself one of those other kinds of six-packs this year and call it even.

Now people, before I get letters, please remember this is all in fun. I’m not advocating sloth, alcohol abuse, or ignoring your responsibilities (But they always worked for me! That’s the punchline, right?). I’m simply trying to impress upon you that it’s okay if you’re not setting the world on fire in 2025. It’s okay to have a humble year.

In fact, it’s probably best we all take it slow in 2025, as it promises to be stressful for many. A new/old administration is coming in. Half the country is on edge, especially those on the margins, who are already feeling uncertainty and, in some cases, fear for their safety.

The day after the election I pledged to take care of myself thusly: work hard, love my people, and keep my head down. This is the most loving strategy for me and mine for the foreseeable future. That’s not to say I’m going to sit by and ignore injustice and cruelty. Never. But I’m not going to be seeking the outrage. My worldview is clearly at odds with some 77 million Americans. It’s time to be humble, not to engage in open-ended ideological/moral keyboard battle. I welcome the break.

This is most certainly the highest version of self-care for me. It could even be called self-preservation.

Keeping our mental health as close to acceptable as possible is really where it’s at. That’s the sweet spot. Riches, fame, and the admiration of your peers is all well and good, so I’ve heard, but they mean nothing if you’re hanging by a thread emotionally. Which makes it all the more reasonable to reevaluate our to-do lists this year. For me, I’m replacing “exercise more” with “don’t murder anyone.” See how lowering the bar takes the pressure off?

And no, I don’t do in-home life coaching visits. Sorry.

So keep your heads up, people, even if you’re being out-everythinged by your friends and neighbors. Go ahead and check in with those over-exercising, juice cleansing workaholics next December and see what all that ambition amounted to. They’re liable to be wondering why they bothered with those Pilates classes and that $900 juicer, especially after they get a glimpse of you looking all chill and happy in your track pants and slippers. Then just clear last night’s pizza boxes off the kitchen table and sit down and share with them your sage self-care tips over a cocktail or two.

There’s always next year. And if I’m wrong, and there isn’t a next year, well then, you sure had fun, didn’t ya?

Happy New Year people. Take it easy out there.