January 2026:
A new year doesn’t require a new you.
I chose the photo for this post very intentionally — it was the first picture I took in 2026. I remember feeling genuinely happy when I took it. When I looked back at it later, I realized that so much of that happiness came from familiarity — from things being the same, even as the year had changed.
I was walking in a park I often go to, on a trail I’ve walked many times before. I was wearing a favorite sweatshirt, listening to an album I return to again and again. The very first thing that brought me joy in 2026 was being the exact same person I was in 2025.
That realization reminded me of a cognitive distortion I talk about in therapy called mental filtering (or disqualifying the positives). It’s a common thought pattern where we focus almost entirely on what needs fixing and overlook what’s already working.
New Year’s resolutions are often well-intentioned, but I wonder if this time of year nudges us toward that distortion. We’re encouraged to scan ourselves for flaws, to identify what needs to change in order to be “better.” And sometimes, in doing so, we unintentionally dismiss the strengths, routines, relationships, and coping skills that already support our lives.
In that way, this season can quietly do us a disservice — not because growth is bad, but because it can pull our attention away from everything we already are.
This year, instead of focusing on resolutions, I’m reflecting on what I want to stay the same. I want to keep doing the things that make me feel most like myself — walking that same trail, wearing that same sweatshirt, listening to that same music. I want to practice gratitude not just for what I hope to do, but for what I’ve already done and who I’ve already been.
Most importantly, I’m letting these reflections affirm something simple and steady:
A new year does not require a new me.
The version of me that navigated the highs and lows of 2025 is already well-equipped to handle and even thrive in 2026.
And I gently encourage you to consider the same — how the version of you that carried you through last year might not be someone to replace, but someone to trust. Perhaps growth this year doesn’t begin with reinvention, but with acceptance. With noticing what works. With choosing not to abandon yourself in the name of improvement.
How this can Help you tHRIVE ____
Thriving doesn’t always come from becoming someone new. Often, it comes from recognizing and trusting what already works. When you pause to notice the parts of yourself and your life that provide steadiness, you shift from self-criticism to self-support.
Before asking, “What should I change this year?” try asking:
What parts of me helped me survive or feel steady last year?
What routines, relationships, or qualities already support the life I want?
What would it look like to protect those things instead of replacing them?
Growth doesn’t always mean becoming someone new.
Sometimes it means staying true to yourself.
“ The version of you that carried you through last year might not be someone to replace, but rather someone to trust.”
