Hello (2026)

Nº 016

I know a new year does not fix anything. What it gives me is a little room, and after the year I just lived, that is enough to work with.

This year, I am not chasing a fresh start in twenty-six. I am trying to create room in the days I already have. Room to work. Room to notice what is in front of me. Room to stay put without feeling like I am falling behind.

Last year narrowed everything. Time. Energy. Attention. Days filled with appointments, phone calls, paperwork, waiting rooms. Caregiving does that. It reshapes the day around other people’s needs. A new year does not undo any of it. My parents still need care, and the work continues. Appointments shape the week. Long afternoons pass in waiting rooms, listening for names, watching the clock. I show up because the work matters. I am learning that tending to myself has to matter, too.

What I can change is how I live around it. This year is about building better habits around the things I care about most, and moving through my days with more intention.

This year, the goal is to treat my own care as part of the work, not something that happens after. To protect sleep when it’s available. To eat better when I have a choice. To walk without stacking tasks on top of each other. To notice when my body tightens and when it eases, and to respond before exhaustion takes over. None of this is dramatic, but it matters.

There is other work waiting, too. Old grief. Long-held fears. Stories I buried because they were easier not to touch. Last year cracked some of that open whether I wanted it to or not. This year, I am going to stop hiding from them. Slowly. With help. Without rushing to make meaning out of it.

I am not chasing happiness. I am not aiming for reinvention. I am building steadiness. Days that hold together. Routines that return something instead of draining it. Practices that leave me less brittle at the end of the day than I was at the start.

Twenty-six does not need to announce itself. It does not need to impress me. It needs to give me enough room to keep working, keep caring, and keep making things with my hands.

That is how I enter the year. Not fixed. Not finished. Still here, with a little more space than before.