Finding Steadiness After a Hard Year

I don’t do resolutions anymore.

Not because I’ve stopped believing in growth, but because I’ve started believing in grace.

Growth, for me, doesn’t come from rigid lists or punishing expectations. It comes from awareness. From intention. From gently asking, what do I want this next season of my life to feel like?

And this year, that question landed differently, because nothing about these last few months has gone the way I expected.

When the Year Ends in Uncertainty

I thought I knew what this year would bring.
More rest. More peace. Maybe a softer pace.

But life had other plans.

The last few months have been filled with doctor visits, new diagnoses, long nights, and the kind of worry that settles deep in your chest. My husband’s health has changed everything about our rhythm, our days, our pace, even the way I think about the future.

And yet, in the middle of all that unknown, there’s been this strange and quiet kind of beauty.

Hope isn’t loud. It doesn’t always feel bright.
Sometimes it looks like small acts of steadiness, the way you keep showing up, keep loving, keep choosing to believe there’s still light ahead.

This year didn’t end the way I imagined.
But it reminded me that love can stretch farther than fear.
That strength can coexist with tears.
And that even in uncertainty, there is something sacred about the simple act of holding on.

Why I Chose Steadiness for 2026

After a year of letting go, of hustle, pressure, and proving, I realized I wasn’t craving ease as an outcome.

What I needed was steadiness.

Steadiness doesn’t mean everything will be simple.
It means I can stay grounded even when it isn’t.

Steadiness looks like:

Saying no without guilt
Letting dinner be simple
Creating rhythms instead of rigid plans
Softening around the hard parts instead of pushing through

It isn’t laziness. It’s wisdom.
It’s choosing presence over panic.
Peace, even when chaos is an option.

Maybe especially then.

The Practice That Changed Everything

Each year I choose a word, and each year it shapes me in ways I never expect.

This practice isn’t loud. It isn’t flashy.
But it anchors me.

Instead of chasing goals, I ask myself, does this choice support steadiness?

If not, I pause. I pivot. I come home to myself again.

This year, in the midst of fear and fatigue, that question became a lifeline. It helped me soften when everything in me wanted to brace. It helped me breathe when everything felt tight. It helped me stay rooted when life felt unsteady.

If You Want to Try This Too

You don’t need a ritual. You don’t need a perfect word.

You just need a quiet moment and an honest question.
What am I craving underneath all the noise?

Let your answer become your compass.
Let it lead you gently through the new year.

And if your year didn’t end the way you thought it would,
If you’re stepping into January with more questions than answers,
If your heart feels tender from all the holding on,

You’re not alone in that.

May the next season bring healing, however it comes.
May it bring moments of laughter in between the hard ones.
And may it bring the quiet assurance that we are not alone in the waiting.

With love, with tenderness, and with steadiness,
Brandy