Why I No Longer Believe In The Concept of a “New” Me

New Year, New Me. We’ve been hearing this slogan roll around for quite a few decades now and at one point I used to believe it. I thought, with the dawning of a new year, I would be able to overhaul my entire life and then, then I would be worthy of value. Sometimes that looked like promising to go to the gym every day for the year. Read 250 books by the end of the year. Vowing to go on a juice cleanse once a month. Etc. All of these “goals” were set in an effort to keep me focused on “self development” as though I am a project that never ends, each year promising to yield a better version of me than the one before it. But wouldn’t ya know it - I was still the same person, albeit with more information, more experience, and occasionally a body that had changed in some capacity.

At no point did I unzip this body or soul and put on a new one. It’s the same me - if anything, I’m just becoming MORE me.

I mean, I’m not surprised that we adopted this idea that a “new” version of us will save the day - we live in a highly capitalistic society that promises us that new = better and old = discarded. When we don’t like our circumstances, our bodies, or ultimately, ourselves, the thought of a “new” version can feel promising - but if we happen to achieve whatever it is we are desiring, we then hold onto it so tightly, fearing that if we let go just a little bit, we risk slipping “backward” and God forbid, your priorities change and your body and self go back to what feels safe - shame piles on.

Here’s the thing - the “old me” & the “new me” are the same me - just with more or less information, with more or less body mass, height and collagen, & more or less experience.

Can you imagine looking at a 10 year old and saying:
“Just wait until you get your ‘new body’ at 15!”
Images of people unzipping their skin suits to step into the newest, latest & greatest one is horrifying.

Or saying to a 5 year old on New Year’s Day:
“New year, new you!”
They would be scared shitless wondering how they will transform into something entirely different.

And now, I’m not denying that we change - obviously, that’s part of life: changing our routines, updating our neurological software, dealing with things that come at us, and shifting our priorities as we age.

I’m just not buying into this idea that I need to discard parts of me as I grow - I tried that in the past: comparing my body via before & after photos, contrasting my bank account back then with the bank account now, etc. and it only resulted in shame about past behaviors, past ways I looked, and past beliefs.  I shoved “old” me into the shadows - but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there.  Instead, she was just rejected in the form of self deprecating thoughts, fear about “going back”, and constant monitoring.

But again, I couldn’t be here without those past versions of me.  2025 me is just going to be the next ring on the tree, the next shell of the nesting doll, and the next layer of sediment in the story that is me. I’m excited to document my life, my experience, and my body - not as a way to show “progress” but rather as a way to say “This is how I lived this year and that was enough.”

I look at myself more like a morphing animus - something that flexes and bends and stretches and shifts and contracts and expands and shrinks and grows as life happens.  While there is chronological Teri - she is not “new” or “old” - she is simply in the past, in the present or in the future. 

All worthy of love.  All worthy of care.  All worthy of respect.