There is something seductive about crossing the threshold into a new year. It’s the same feeling as opening a new journal, or writing on crisp letter paper, or sliding under clean bedsheets. A fresh start holds promise. It’s like a new relationship: full of romance and possibility. Humans like symbolism.
And yet, I am different. More tired. Less excitable. Wiser perhaps. For me, the new year is less about the fizz and resolutions of my twenties, and more about simply being. We don’t always need to be better or shinier or bigger or braver. Sometimes, we just need to be, to let go of expectations and trust that we will get to where we need to be.
This year is about flow. It’s about not pushing too hard, or resisting the current. It’s about not holding the residue of past losses, or the pride of wins. That place in your chest, where it hurts, where you hold your fear and your disappointments, let that go. Be kind to yourself. You’re just perfect as you are.