It’s 2026 now. Calendars have changed, the school semester has shifted, the world has moved forward, but I still feel more or less the same. When I watched the clock hit 12:00 AM on January 1st, I expected to feel a new burst of confidence and energy surge through me as I pumped myself up to face the new year. But honestly? I didn’t really feel anything. It was like bracing for a wave of emotion only to be met with the dull, sinking weight of apathy.
Maybe I expected too much from the first day of the new year. But even a week in now, I still don’t really feel like the magic of the new year has captured me yet. In fact, I somehow feel in a worse position than I was in last year. My thoughts keep me awake more often, my mind feels constantly on edge, and I’m perpetually tired despite maintaining a decent sleep schedule. I dread the idea that this might set the pace and tone for the rest of my 2026—one defined by stress and emotional numbness.Â
When I reflect upon my last year, I can pinpoint hundreds of things that I should have done differently or should have changed about myself that in hindsight might have led to a better outcome. Instead of clarity, that reflection often turns into self-criticism, a mental replay of my missed opportunities and wrong turns. It leaves me caught between who I was and who I thought I’d be by now, carrying the weight of expectations that never quite materialized. 2026 should be the year where I change that, where I become the best version of myself by fixing all those mistakes I made in 2025, but I just can’t find the motivation to do that right now.
Instead of starting January this year with lofty New Year’s resolutions determined to change every part of myself, I’ll be using it to think about myself in my most honest sense. Confronting the current parts of me that I’m almost too scared to take an introspective look at for fear of learning and discovering too much about myself in the process. Instead of demanding results, I am learning to sit with uncertainty and acknowledge the emotions I have often ignored or pushed aside. This process is uncomfortable, but it feels more genuine than pretending I’m ready to sprint toward change when I am barely standing.
As 2026 unfolds, I do not expect clarity to arrive all at once. What I hope for instead is progress measured not by dramatic change, but by understanding myself. If this year teaches me how to listen to myself more carefully and treat my struggles with compassion rather than criticism, then it will already be a step forward. Growth, after all, does not begin with becoming someone new—it begins with understanding who I already am.
Bring it on, 2026.