Every January, the world collectively clears its throat.

We sharpen our pencils.
Open fresh notebooks.
Make quiet promises to ourselves that this year will be different.

We will be calmer.
More disciplined.
Kinder to ourselves.
Less reactive.
More focused.
More healed.
More something.

It all sounds hopeful. And it is.
But there is a small, nearly invisible assumption hiding underneath all that good intention.

That something about us is not quite right yet.

We are starting the year a little behind.

No one says this out loud. We do not need to.
It hums quietly in the background of our thinking, like static we have grown used to.

And yet, almost everything we do in the name of growth, change, and self-improvement quietly grows out of that one idea.

Something is missing.

I have been sitting with a different question as this year begins.

What if nothing is missing?

Not as a slogan.
Not as a spiritual bumper sticker.
Not as something to believe harder.

Just as a possibility worth noticing.

Because when you slow it down and really look, most of what we chase has very little to do with goals or habits. It has everything to do with something much more human.

We want to be seen.
We want to be heard.
We want to be useful, wanted, and appreciated.
We want to be loved.

And somehow, we picked up the idea that these things are earned through improvement.

If I could just fix this one thing about myself.
If I could stop thinking so much.
If I could finally feel confident.
If I could get my act together.

Then I would matter more.
Then I would belong.
Then I would be okay.

That logic sounds reasonable. It also quietly exhausts us.

Here is the part that often gets missed.

The desire to be seen does not come from being broken.
It comes from already being here.

The longing to be loved does not point to a deficiency.
It points to connection as something built into us.

A baby does not want love because something is wrong with them.
They want love because they are alive.

Somewhere along the way, we learned to turn that natural longing into a self-improvement project.

And January is very good at amplifying that misunderstanding.

I am not against goals.
I am not against change.
I am not even against New Year’s resolutions, though I have personally broken enough of them to stop taking myself too seriously.

What I am gently questioning is the starting point.

When growth begins from the assumption that you are lacking, it always feels heavy.
Even the “good” changes come with pressure.
Even success feels temporary, because there is always another version of you waiting to be fixed.

But when growth comes from clarity, something else happens.

You still move.
You still create.
You still learn.

You just stop using self-judgment as fuel.

Here is a simple experiment you can try, not as a technique, just as something to notice.

Think of something you want this year. Anything at all.

More peace.
More confidence.
More meaningful work.
Better relationships.

Now pause for a moment and ask, very quietly:

If I already mattered, how would this look different?

Not how would I behave better.
Not what would I force myself to do.

Just notice the feeling behind the wanting.

For many people, something softens right there.

The urgency drops.
The self-criticism eases.
The mind gets a little quieter.

Nothing has been solved.
Nothing has been fixed.

But something important has been remembered.

This is where real disruption happens.

Not by telling people they are fine and leaving it at that.
But by pointing to the fact that their experience of being “not fine” is created moment by moment through thinking.

And thinking changes. Constantly.

We forget that.

We take our thoughts personally.
We build identities out of moods.
We treat temporary states of mind like permanent truths.

Then we try to fix ourselves from inside that misunderstanding.

No wonder we are tired.

What if 2026 did not start with becoming better, but with becoming curious?

Curious about how quickly thought turns feelings into facts.
Curious about how often clarity returns on its own, without effort.
Curious about the difference between a busy mind and a settled one.

When the mind settles, even briefly, something becomes obvious.

You do not feel broken.
You do not feel behind.
You do not feel compelled to prove your worth.

You simply feel more like yourself.

And from there, action looks different.

Not driven.
Not forced.
Not fueled by fear of being inadequate.

Just responsive.

I have experienced this personally.
I have watched this quietly change lives.
Not because we tried harder.
But because we stopped arguing with our own humanity.

We still had challenges.
We still had emotions.
We still had messy days.

We just stopped using those things as evidence that something was wrong with them.

That shift alone changes how you show up in the world.

And oddly enough, when you stop trying so hard to be seen, people start to see you.

So if you are wondering where to begin this year, here is my gentle suggestion.

Begin by questioning the assumption that you need fixing before life can work.

Begin by noticing when your mind is loud and when it is quiet.
Begin by trusting that clarity is not something you manufacture, but something that returns when thinking settles.

Begin by letting yourself off the hook just enough to breathe.

You do not need to become more lovable.
You do not need to earn your place.
You do not need to prove that you matter.

You already do.

And from that place, whatever comes next will be far more interesting than anything you could have planned from insecurity.

That feels like a good place to start.

Before you set another goal this year, try this instead.

Pause.
Breathe.
And ask yourself:

What if I’m not behind?

If that question feels alive for you, stay with it.
I’ll be here, pointing in that direction throughout the year.

Much love,