Looking toward 2026, I know one thing for sure. I do not want another year to drift by without intention. I am tired of feeling lost and disconnected from my own life. This is not about dramatic reinvention or chasing some ideal version of myself. It is about choosing steadier ground and building something livable, one small decision at a time.
Age has been echoing loudly in my head lately. Sixty five feels heavy, not because it is old, but because it comes with awareness. There is time left, real time, and what I do with it matters. That realization is uncomfortable, but it is also clarifying. I do not want to spend the coming years frozen in place by fear, exhaustion, or habit. If I am going to move forward, I need to do it deliberately.
Health is an unavoidable part of that picture. Not in a perfectionist or punishing way, but in a practical one. I want to walk regularly, in all kinds of weather. I want to use my weights to build strength and practice yoga or gentle stretching to improve flexibility. These are not lofty goals. They are basic acts of care. I do not need to love them. I just need to do them often enough that my body remembers how to move again.
Getting outside matters more than I have been allowing myself to admit. I want more walks in parks, more time in green spaces, and more participation in community events. Things like library classes, park activities, and walks that bring people together. My knees and hips complain, but avoiding movement has not helped them either. Strength might come slowly, but it will not come at all if I stay still.
My home also needs attention, because the way I live inside my space affects how I live inside my head. I want a simpler, more minimal environment. Less clutter. Fewer unused items. A bedroom that feels calm instead of chaotic. That means cleaning out my closet, clearing the floor, and creating room to move. I want dishes done regularly, not sitting in the sink for weeks. I want the top of my stove clear so cooking feels possible instead of overwhelming.
Cooking is something I want to return to gently. Not elaborate meals, just real food prepared ahead of time. Meal prep feels like a form of self respect when done realistically. If I can lower my blood pressure and blood sugar through consistent habits, everything else becomes a little easier. I am not chasing fast results. I am looking for steadiness.
Daily care matters too. Small things that seem insignificant but add up over time. Brushing my teeth every day. Wearing my teeth all day. Showering more than once a month. These are not moral failings. They are signals that structure has slipped away, and structure is something I need to rebuild with kindness rather than shame.
Creativity is another thread I do not want to lose. I want to publish my poetry book. That goal has stayed with me because it matters. Woulf’s story has changed over time, shifting from fantasy into something more educational and grounded, especially around caring for forests. I need to decide what that project truly wants to be now, instead of holding it frozen in an earlier version of myself.
Helping others continues to pull at me, but I need to be honest about what I can give. I have thought about volunteering at places like Trinity and Tiny Village, though I am not sure yet how much time or energy I can commit. At the very least, I want to keep water on my sill and stay connected to the idea that small acts still matter. I want helping to feel meaningful, not draining or obligatory.
Learning is another area where I feel uncertain. I thought I wanted to dive deeper into AI, especially art tools, but I am not sure what I actually want to create right now. That uncertainty is okay. Maybe 2026 is about exploration rather than mastery. Allowing curiosity to lead instead of forcing a plan where one does not yet exist.
Above all, I want to learn how to focus again. Focus feels like a lost skill, but it can be practiced. Slowly. Imperfectly. One habit at a time. If I can build even a small amount of consistency into my days, the rest has a chance to follow.
I am not aiming for a perfect year. I am aiming for a year that belongs to me. One where intention replaces drifting, and care replaces avoidance. That feels like a reasonable place to start.
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