Tag: mindful living

An Almost End-of-Year Reset

I used to think resets had to be dramatic.

New planners. New routines. Big declarations about who I was going to become next.

But as the years have passed — and life has gotten fuller, louder, and more layered — I’ve learned that the most meaningful resets are often the quiet ones.

This isn’t a post about reinventing yourself before January 1st.
It’s about pausing, noticing, and gently clearing space before what comes next.

An almost end-of-year reset.

This Isn’t a Glow-Up

If you’re tired, you don’t need a glow-up.
If you’re overwhelmed, you don’t need a ten-step plan.
And if this year stretched you in ways you didn’t expect, you don’t need to “fix” that.

You’re allowed to end the year as you are.

For me, manifestation has never been about forcing change. It’s been about awareness — noticing patterns, energy, habits, and thoughts. Paying attention to what feels aligned and what feels heavy, and letting that awareness guide the next small step.

That’s what this reset is about.

Clearing Space (Without Pressure)

Clearing space doesn’t have to mean doing more. Often, it means doing less.

Less noise.
Less comparison.
Less carrying things that no longer fit the season you’re in.

This might look like:

  • Letting go of expectations you picked up along the way
  • Unsubscribing from voices that make you feel behind
  • Allowing rest to be part of your practice

Manifestation isn’t always about calling things in. Sometimes it’s about making room.

Intention Over Resolution

I don’t set rigid New Year’s resolutions anymore. Instead, I return to intention.

An intention is softer. It leaves room for real life — for kids, work, mess, joy, exhaustion, and change.

As I look ahead, I’m asking myself:

  • How do I want to feel moving forward?
  • What kind of energy do I want to bring into my days?
  • What would it look like to trust myself a little more?

You don’t need a perfect answer. You just need an honest one.

Ending the Year Where You Are

If you’re closing this year feeling grateful, that matters.
If you’re closing it feeling tired, that matters too.
If you’re somewhere in between, that matters just as much.

This is your permission slip to end the year gently. To reflect without pressure. To reset without erasing yourself.

You don’t need a whole new life.
You’re allowed to build on the one you already have.

Journal Prompts for an Almost End-of-Year Reset

You don’t need to answer all of these. Sit with the ones that feel gentle, not demanding.

Looking Back (Without Judgment)

  • What moments from this year still feel warm when I think about them?
  • What did I carry this year that I no longer want to bring with me?
  • Where did I show resilience that I might be overlooking?
  • What surprised me about myself this year?

Taking Inventory

  • What consistently gave me energy?
  • What quietly drained me, even if I told myself it was “fine”?
  • What patterns did I notice in my thoughts, habits, or reactions?
  • Where did I push when rest would have served me better?

Releasing with Care

  • What expectations am I ready to release?
  • What does letting go look like for me right now — practically, not perfectly?
  • What would feel lighter if I stopped trying to control it?

Looking Ahead (Softly)

  • How do I want to feel moving forward?
  • What kind of energy do I want to bring into my days?
  • What would it look like to trust myself a little more?
  • What am I open to receiving, without forcing the how?

Closing Gently

  • What does a gentle reset look like for me?
  • What do I want to remember as this year ends?
  • What am I allowed to take slowly?

There’s no rush. You’re allowed to meet yourself where you are — and begin again from there.

Trusting the Voice Within

Yesterday shook me. Not just a little. Not in a passing, brush-it-off kind of way. In a deep, soul-level kind of way that stays with you long after the chaos settles.

It started with a birthday happy hour at a coworker’s house—a celebration for a fellow kinder teacher I care about. I wasn’t really in the mood to go. The house wasn’t close, I never drink and drive, and to be completely honest, the social setting already had me on edge. I’m not great in crowds unless I have a drink in hand. That’s just the truth. But I went anyway.

Still, something felt off. My intuition—the quiet but persistent voice I’ve been trying to honor more lately—kept nudging me. You don’t need to go. You don’t want to go. Something doesn’t feel right. I heard it. I ignored it.

And then it happened.

A three-year-old little girl slipped into the pool. Unnoticed. Her mom had just taken her floaties off for a quick snack break inside, and in a flash, the unthinkable happened—right in front of six adults. It was every parent’s worst nightmare. Thankfully, she was rescued and transported to the hospital in time. She’s going to be okay. But still… the what-ifs are haunting.

As I sat with the aftermath last night, my mind drifted again to that nagging feeling I had before the party. That intuitive whisper that I’ve been hearing more and more often these days—not just about the party, but about my life. About how I treat my body. About how much wine I drink. About how I show up for my family.

I recently read something that hit me right in the heart: our intuition is our soul communicating with us. It’s not just a hunch. It’s not just a fleeting feeling. It’s guidance. Wisdom. A sacred knowing. And I’ve been getting better at hearing it—but yesterday reminded me I need to get better at honoring it.

Because here’s the truth: I am a better version of myself when I don’t drink.

Clearer. Calmer. More present. More joyful. More me.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy. It’s not. I still find myself making excuses. Pouring a glass on autopilot. Choosing temporary ease over long-term peace. But after yesterday, I can’t ignore the voice anymore.

My intuition is no longer whispering—it’s yelling. And this time, I’m listening.

Maybe this post is my line in the sand. Maybe it’s a turning point. Maybe it’s just another breadcrumb on the path. But I know this much: I want to honor the woman I’m becoming. I want to treat my body with reverence, not recklessness. I want to trust myself more. Tune in more. And numb less.

So here’s to slowing down. To paying attention. To saying no when something doesn’t feel right. And to saying yes to the kind of life that aligns with peace, presence, and purpose.

Thank you, Universe, for the wake-up call. I’m awake now. I’m ready.