Do Not Plan Your Perfect 2026 Yet…
There's Something Missing From Your List"
It’s the last day of 2025. While everyone’s busy crafting vision boards and filling spreadsheets with ambitious goals, I wanted to share something that’s been on my heart.
I used to be a meticulous planner. Every hour accounted for, every project mapped out months in advance. On paper, my goals were perfect—aligned with my values, ambitious yet achievable. But somewhere around month three, something shifted. The joy started leaking out. My days became a series of checkboxes. My creative practice felt more like homework than play.
And here’s what I finally understood: if my happiness depends on everything going exactly right, that’s not happiness. That’s control. And control, for all its promises of safety, quietly suffocates the parts of us that need room to breathe.
So I want to hold space for two truths today. Maybe you need to hear one. Maybe you need to hear both.
If You’re Tired (And I Think You Might Be)
If you’re someone who tends to burn out, who gives everything until there’s nothing left, I see you. And I want you to know that rest isn’t something you have to earn.
Here’s the gentlest practice I know: At the end of your to-do list, add one more line:
“What spontaneous thing am I doing today?”
Then actually do it. Keep your other lists safe- this isn’t about abandoning the things that matter. It’s about remembering that you matter too.
So let me answer that question for today, and maybe it’ll spark something for you:
I’m taking my coffee to a different room not my desk, not the kitchen table. Maybe the floor by the window where the morning light pools. I’m going to sit there for ten minutes without my phone, without a plan, and just notice what it feels like to break my own pattern.
Later, when I’m cooking dinner, I’m going to put on a song I loved when I was fifteen and haven’t listened to in years. I’m going to let myself remember who I was then, what I dreamed about, what made me feel alive before I learned to be so careful with my time.
Maybe it’s listening to my creative intuition. If I sit down to work but feel drawn elsewhere, I let myself switch. Sometimes what feels like resistance is actually your creative intuition saying “not this, not now.” And that’s okay. You’re allowed to listen to yourself.
These aren’t grand gestures. They won’t change my life overnight. But they’ll remind me that my life is mine to shape, even in the smallest ways. That joy doesn’t have to be earned or scheduled. That spontaneity isn’t about doing something wild, it’s about choosing presence over autopilot, even for a moment.
Your spontaneous thing doesn’t have to look like mine. It just has to feel like a small rebellion against the tyranny of productivity. A gentle reminder that you’re allowed to live, not just accomplish.
If You’re Ready (And I Think You Are)
Now, if you’re someone who thrives on structure and wants to move toward something meaningful, I have a different invitation for you.
Take a breath. Then picture your future self. Not the one who finally has it all together, but the one who stopped needing to. The version of you who feels deeply, genuinely at peace. Who’s learned to be kind without keeping score. Who carries joy not as an achievement but as a way of being.
This person isn’t imaginary. They’re the you that’s waiting on the other side of the decisions you’re sitting with right now.
So let me ask you gently: What would that version of you want you to change today?
Not what sounds impressive. Not what would make others proud. What would make you feel like you’re finally being honest with yourself?
And here’s the question that might sting a little: What decision am I making now that I’m quietly afraid my future self will wish I had changed sooner?
Maybe it’s setting a boundary you’ve been too scared to set. Maybe it’s finally asking for help. Maybe it’s admitting that the path you’re on isn’t actually yours, it’s just the one that seemed safest. Maybe it’s letting yourself rest without guilt.
Whatever it is, your future self isn’t judging you. They’re just holding the door open, waiting for you to walk through whenever you’re ready.
The Question That Changes Everything
Every year, I choose a guiding question instead of a resolution. This year, mine is:
What would I choose if love and fullness shaped my decisions today?
Not fear of missing out. Not anxiety about falling behind. Not the pressure to prove something or become someone. Just: what would love choose?
Love might choose the disciplined practice of showing up to your art every morning. Love might also choose to skip a day because your body needs rest. Love might push you to finally share your work publicly. Love might also protect you by saying, “Not yet.”
The beautiful thing about this question is that the answer changes. It asks you to check in with yourself, again and again, and trust what you find there. And I think that’s what we’re all really looking for: permission to trust ourselves.
As We Step Into the New Year
I’m not asking you to abandon your goals or stop planning. Structure can be beautiful. Discipline can be an act of self-love. But maybe this year, we make room for both the plan and the surprise. The root and the wing. The doing and the being.
Ask yourself tonight, not with judgment but with curiosity: Am I moving toward a life that feels alive, or one that just looks good on paper?
Your future self already knows the answer. And they’re not disappointed in you, they never were. They’re just hoping you’ll be a little gentler with yourself this time around.
So whatever you’re carrying into the new year, whether it’s hope or exhaustion or some tender mix of both, I want you to know: you don’t have to have it figured out. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep showing up for yourself, in whatever way feels truest.
That’s enough. You’re enough.
Happy new year folks!!!
