sur·​ren·​der | \ sə-ˈren-dər  \

1 a: to yield to the power, control, or possession of another upon compulsion or demand surrendered the fort. b: to give up completely or agree to forgo especially in favor of another.

2 a: to give (oneself) up into the power of another especially as a prisoner. b: to give (oneself) over to something (such as an influence).

I always choose a Word of the Year. A few things are evident in reading over my previous words of the year. I choose words that are hopeful, aspirational, and positive. I choose words that are more squishy than measurable. When I use my applied researcher skills (the skills that require understanding outcomes and results), I get overwhelmed. I need help with follow-through. I need help with keeping my word to myself. I struggle to see the world with fresh eyes every morning. I am a proverbial butterfly battling to free herself from her chrysalis – wanting to fly but not being able to trust my wings are strong enough to soar. A few years ago, I chose the word surrender. With so many things happening right now that I want to control and fix on an individual and global scale, returning to what is mine to surrender in all of it feels right.

Here is what I surrender.

I surrender the need for immediate results.

I know results are essential. Results can motivate. Effects (or lack thereof) can lead to course corrections. Results can organize our reflections into manageable waves of understanding rather than monsoons of paralytic fear. I get caught up in all or nothing action and today. If meaningful results look toward tomorrow and tomorrow, I want results yesterday. This goes across all areas of my life. Professionally, I want to build my dream career overnight. I want my relationships to flourish like a meticulously tended garden when I only water our plants occasionally. Physically, I want to be the picture of fitness without putting the work in moving and training. Spiritually, I want the peace of a yoga practice delivered without spending time on my mat. I surrender my need for immediate results. I surrender my need for immediate results. I surrender my need for immediate results.

I surrender the things that don’t serve me.

My list of things that don’t serve me is easy to compile. The generalized anxiety of not being present daily does not serve me. The complete despair I feel about the vast issues confronting our world does not serve me. The inner terror that I don’t have my shit together by now (whatever it means to have your shit together) does not serve me. The awful practices of judgment, gossip, and self-loathing do not serve me. I surrender the things that don’t serve me. I surrender the things that don’t serve me. I surrender things that don’t serve me.

I surrender weight.

I spend a lot of time feeling heavy. It’s not just about physical weight (though that is an issue). It’s the weight of expectation. It’s the weight of worry. It’s the weight of debt. It’s the weight of diagnosis. It’s the weight of the minuscule that looms large. It’s the weight of big failures that I return to in the middle of the night. It’s the weight of small disappointments that ache. I surrender weight. I surrender weight. I surrender weight.

I surrender busyness, chaos, and disorder.

I have avoided keeping an up-to-date calendar for the last few years. I generally write things down in my old school planner, but I have been in disarray for some time. In general, I have good weeks and then miss a few days. I know in my bones the importance of writing things down. I have heard over and over for years from many of the wisest people I have read and understand that writing things down makes things happen. If our time is truly sacred. I surrender busyness, chaos, and disorder. I surrender busyness, chaos, and disorder. I surrender busyness, chaos, and disorder.