New Years Eve & New Years Day

New years bring with them a strange mix of responsibility and reflection. There is often an unspoken pressure to feel renewed, motivated, and ready to begin again, as though the turning of a calendar page should automatically usher in clarity or transformation. I think this is because humans love the idea of clean closure and fresh beginnings, and New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day offer that in abundance. But as the year unfolds, I, like many others, tend to fall back into old patterns. By the time the next New Year rolls around, I find myself promising that this will be the year I do things differently.

I’ve started to wonder whether this rinse-and-repeat cycle is what actually prevents real change. Looking back over the past few years of my life, I’ve noticed something surprising. The years in which I placed the least expectation on myself were the years in which the greatest growth occurred.

By definition, my 21st New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day were not good. They were horrendous. My year began in a deeply painful and dark place, forcing me to confront emotions I had never truly faced before. Yet that darkness demanded a level of strength I didn’t know I possessed. It required me to reawaken parts of myself that I had buried long ago, parts I needed in order to survive what I was experiencing for the first time in my life.

Although those days were among the most difficult I had endured, that year went on to become one of the most fulfilling and rewarding of my life. In hindsight, it prepared me for challenges I would face in the years to come, even if I couldn’t see it at the time.

So why is it that the quieter, more mundane, and often more difficult New Years have led me to better years ahead? For me, I think the answer lies in expectation. The lower the expectation, the greater the growth. While I work well with goals, I also carry a strong tendency toward perfection. That perfection often turns into paralysis, freezing me in anxiety and preventing forward movement. Instead, I find comfort in familiar patterns, moving through my days on muscle memory rather than intention.

I don’t believe there is a single “right” way to mark the start of a new year. For some people, setting goals is energising. For others, a structured plan with clearly articulated steps lights a fire they didn’t know existed. But for those of us who feel weighed down by the pressure New Years can bring, perhaps it’s okay to let the day be quiet. To close the chapter before us with gratitude and forgiveness, and to step into the year ahead with a sense of open, uncharted possibility.

Whatever your way of closing one year and opening another may be, I hope you know it doesn’t have to feel like enough. It’s okay to feel as though you should do more, say more, or be more. For many, that feeling becomes fuel. But when you fall short, or don’t feel compelled to create a grand plan to outdo the year before, that is okay too. Life is heavy, and for some, myself included, unmet expectations can make that weight almost unbearable.

As I step into my 26th year, and into the years beyond it, I do so with no plan and no expectations, only two loosely defined goals. I have no clear idea how to achieve them. All I know is that if I want to live a life I am truly proud of, these things matter. I want to heal old wounds that have shaped my life for as long as I can remember, and I want to find a sense of inner peace that allows me to live fully and happily.

How will I do that? I honestly don’t know. Maybe through books or podcasts, through self-care days, or through moments of discomfort I haven’t yet anticipated. What I do know is that I’m willing to pursue it, and for now, that feels enough. I have a sense that allowing myself to move through the world more freely, without rigid expectations, may be one of the most effective ways to get there. As the quote  by Steve Jobs remarks, “you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.” I sincerely look forward to seeing how those dots will eventually connect for me.