Leaving 2025 with Reflection Not Resolution

Leaving 2025 and going into 2026 with Reflection not Resolution.

The end of the year often invites us to think about what we want for the next one. We think about new goals, ambitions, hopes, or dreams. We begin to prepare for something new. In the past, I often focused on what I should work on or get better at. Not setting a rigid resolution, but moving generally toward financial, physical, or spiritual health. This year, I am taking a different approach.

I want to end 2025 in reflection.

When I look back, I see the beauty this year offered me. While the surrounding environment was heavy and there was a great deal of very real fear, there was also depth. I reflect on how I faced many fears, rewrote narratives, trusted myself, let go of unhealthy patterns, strengthened my connection with my child, developed greater compassion for my parents, stayed connected to community, and found a healthy, safe love.

This was a year where I showed myself I was mentally strong: not because I simply endured difficult situations, but because I was willing to sit with emotions that had been lingering for years. When we experience trauma or prolonged hardship, survival can become the focus. In those moments, we often don’t have the capacity to process emotions or question the stories we tell ourselves. This past year, I felt emotionally safe enough to reflect on some of the hardest moments of my life. I thought about what I learned, how those moments shaped me, and what patterns I needed to release. Letting go allowed me to feel, to be present with my child, and to think intentionally about what I want to teach him, and what I do not want to pass down.

Not everyone is in an emotionally or physically safe place. When we are not, reflection can feel impossible because survival takes precedence. However, even within difficult moments, there may be opportunities to notice where we feel safest, who our community is, and when we might pause (even briefly) to move forward with more thoughtfulness. There are times when we must react, times when we move with intention, and, if we are fortunate, times when we can be still.

Learning to be still has been one of the most uncomfortable lessons for me. Both American culture and South Asian culture, in different ways, teach us to keep moving. To hustle. To achieve. To prove. To want more. We are often taught, explicitly or implicitly, that stillness is laziness, that rest must be earned, and that there is always something else we should be striving for. The systems we live in reward productivity and scarcity thinking, even when we are already carrying more than enough.

This year, I began to challenge that narrative.

I am enough. I have enough. I have more than enough.

I have true love. I am living my dream of being a mother. I have incredible friendships. I have community. In this moment, I am sitting in my power. I am still ambitious. I still have dreams for my future. I just no longer believe everything must happen all at once. I also know that what I have right now is deeply meaningful.

As we move toward 2026, maybe this is not the year for more goals or faster movement. Maybe it is a year to sit and reflect. To take stock of what is already good: people, love, compassion, community, connection. And perhaps, if we are in a position of safety and privilege, it is also a year to think about how we create safety within ourselves and for those around us.

My invitation is simple: before rushing to resolve or reinvent, pause. Reflect. Notice what you have survived, what you have grown, and what already holds meaning. Let that awareness guide how you step into the next year—slowly, intentionally, and with care.