2026 Continuation Over Reinvention
The start of a new year usually excites me. As someone who loved school, loves a good list, and sets endless goals, I’m typically deep into my to-do list by now—ready to dominate January and charge into what’s next.
But this year felt different.
I don’t know if it was holiday exhaustion or the many personal changes 2025 brought, but the start of this year felt daunting—something I honestly avoided for as long as I could. Starting my new business has stretched muscles I didn’t even know existed, and as someone who likes to be good at things, that has been both hard and messy. And if I’m being honest, setting goals in the middle of such a big unknown feels intimidating.
I’m hoping someone can relate, because I think we often feel like we’re alone with our inner thoughts—and if you’re anything like me, those thoughts can spin on a merry-go-round until they land you squarely in a state of freeze.
Not the most uplifting way to start a post, I know. But, I think there’s so much rhetoric around the new year being the moment for complete reinvention or hard resets. And while those things can be necessary at times, I also think they can quietly hold us back. Sometimes simply starting the year—and continuing at your current pace—is all you can do. And sometimes, that is more than enough.
This year, I told myself I was starting with rest, peace, and continuation. Continuing the work I began in 2025. Because frankly, I don’t have the energy for a full reinvention.
Rest, peace, and continuation looked like giving myself time to reflect on 2025. It meant being gentle when fear surfaced and setting intentions that align with the life I actually want to live. Reflection, for me, meant writing a timeline of my year—highs and lows included. I’ve done this exercise in therapy and coaching before, and each time I learn something new about myself. The first time, I felt completely lost. The second time, I was incredibly hard on myself. But this time, I felt my mindset shift.
It’s easy to look back on a year and tell yourself, “That was a hard year,” or “I didn’t make the progress I wanted.” But when I mapped out 2025, I noticed something surprising: I highlighted more highs than lows. It gave me a new appreciation not only for the year I had, but for the growth that happened along the way.
After finding out my dad has cancer and losing my 15-year-old dog, I told myself, “2025 was a horrible year.” But when I actually wrote it out, I could also see that we moved across the country to a beautiful town, my business grew, I put myself out there more than I ever had before, and I ended the year surrounded by some of our closest friends. The lows were real—but they didn’t exist without the highs.
Peace looked like writing out my intentions and allowing myself to dream big. It looked like expressing gratitude for a life I once never imagined could be mine. And continuation looked like something very simple: carrying my December to-do list into January. No big proclamations. Just a gentle push forward.
If you’re a parent, teacher, professional—or simply one of my friends reading this—I hope you can carry gratitude and peace into this new year. I’m excited to continue building my consulting and coaching business. It’s scary and uncharted, and I feel incredibly grateful to be doing work that supports schools and families.
In one of my coaching groups, someone shared a quote that’s stayed with me:
“Scared is what you’re feeling. Brave is what you’re doing.” - Emma Donoghue
Whatever your feelings about last year or the one ahead, I hope you take that with you. Keep going. Invite peace. Do it scared. And if you think you’re alone—know that I’m doing it scared right alongside you.
Blessings to you in 2026.
