Where Clarity Begins
My word for 2025 was Clarity. Ironically, it took me well into the year to arrive there.
While many moved quickly to claim their “one word,” I found myself stalled in overwhelm, frustration, and a quiet undercurrent of anxiety. I remember thinking, Why does this feel so hard for me? There was an urge to push forward — to create, to move, to do — even as my intuition was asking for something different.
This year unfolded with moments that demanded presence over productivity. Unexpected medical situations pulled my attention inward and grounded me in what mattered most. They were difficult and disorienting, yet necessary. The shock paralyzed my heart, and I quickly surrendered. I prayed to anything and everything that would hear me. Survival mode took hold.
At the same time, life showered me with undeniable “good” and grace. I traveled to Europe for the first time to celebrate my 40th. I took my family to Kansas City for a concert. We visited Florida, New York City, family back home, and our favorite camping spot. The flowers in my yard were the brightest they’ve ever been. Connor fell in love with football, Clara started her last year of Elementary School, and Ted and I found a new walking trail. These moments became anchors of presence.
Then, the ground shifted again. An unexpected earthquake rumbled below the surface. What had been quietly misaligned for some time took center stage. Boundaries were drawn. Standards were reinforced. What surfaced was not gentle — it was deeply destabilizing. Survival mode remained in high gear. It became a season of release, discernment, trust, and holding space for love along the way.
I didn’t realize how long I’d been living in survival mode until I finally slowed down.
Not crisis survival.
Not “everything is falling apart” survival.
The kind of survival that appears busy, but lacks momentum.
Showing up.
Holding it together.
Moving from one responsibility to the next.
Keeping the wheels on the bus in all areas of my life.
There has been deep purpose and genuine joy in this season of my life. I love my work. I love being present. I love building, serving, and creating impact. And yet, somewhere along the way, I felt a growing sense of both pushing and pulling within me:
My clarity had both dulled and sharpened.
My boundaries had become blurred and drawn.
And my sense of direction felt…muted.
Not gone. Just buried.
When you’re constantly “on,” you don’t realize how little space you’re giving yourself to restore. And without restoration, direction starts to fade.
I wasn’t disconnected from my life — I was deeply embedded in it.
But I had stopped checking in with myself to keep the operations of my life flowing.
And that matters.
Because clarity doesn’t come from doing more.
It comes from creating space.
The Cost of Living Without Internal Space
When we don’t take time to slow down, reflect, and reset, a few things quietly happen:
We normalize exhaustion
We miss the cues begging us to pause
We tolerate misalignment
We say “yes” when our body is asking for no
We confuse productivity with purpose
And eventually, even the things we love start to feel heavier.
Through this season of writing and reflection, I’ve been reminded of the words I preach to others.
Taking care of myself isn’t a luxury.
It’s the foundation.
Not just for me — but for my family.
For my business.
For the people I serve.
When I am clear, rested, and aligned, I lead better. I love better. I decide better. Protecting my clarity and energy is the highest form of self-respect and leadership.
Reclaiming Direction Requires Intentional Pause
As we approach a new year, it’s tempting to rush toward resolutions, goals, and plans. The heavy dose of motivation craves to be met with BIG, audacious declarations! But before we sprint forward, I believe there is value in asking quieter, braver questions:
Who have I become while staying busy?
What parts of myself need tending to?
What boundaries have softened under pressure?
What do I want to carry into the next chapter — and what needs to be released?
Change doesn’t start with a checklist.
It starts with awareness.
And awareness starts when we finally give ourselves permission to pause.
What I’m Carrying Into 2026
As I step into 2026, I’m not chasing a new version of myself. I’m reclaiming one.
I’m not chasing more. I’m protecting what matters most.
One that honors rest as much as effort.
Clarity as much as action.
Self-trust as much as service.
Because when I do, everyone around me benefits.
What’s next for you?
If you’re reading this and feeling a quiet pull for something more — more clarity, more alignment, more direction — I want you to know this:
You don’t need to overhaul your life overnight.
You don’t need a perfect plan.
You don’t need to have it all figured out.
You need to create space to listen.
To yourself.
To your needs.
To the version of you that’s ready to emerge.
As we head into 2026, I hope that we choose intention over autopilot.
Presence over pressure.
And alignment over exhaustion.
The work begins within.
