Looking Ahead: Goals for 2026 and Choosing Intention

 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.

A Quiet Year in Review: Finding My Way Back

I was going through my blog recently and realized something important: December 2024 came and went without any kind of year in review. At the time, I did not think much of it, but looking back now I can see how much that missing pause mattered. I do not function well without some kind of plan or reflection, and this past year really shows that. Skipping that moment of looking back may be one reason I have felt so lost moving through 2025.

When I reread my posts from early 2025, I noticed something else too. Things are better in some ways, yet emotionally I am still close to where I was in January. Winter has always pulled me inward, and December and January seem to amplify everything. I know this is common and that many people struggle more in the colder, darker months, but it always feels heavier when it is happening to you personally. Awareness does not stop the feeling, but it does help me name it.

This past year carried a lot of emotional weight, especially around family milestones. When the first grandchildren gets married, it stirs something deep, and when it happens within a short span, the emotions can feel overwhelming. Add in significant birthdays and major life markers, and it all stacks up quickly. These are good events, meaningful ones, but even joyful change can be exhausting when there is already a lot sitting under the surface.

Despite how foggy much of the year feels, there were bright moments that stand out clearly now. One of the highlights was visiting Casa Loma in Toronto while they were preparing for their Halloween gala. Seeing that historic place in transition was fascinating and memorable. I also experienced a Christkindl market and a Krampus Nacht event for the first time, which felt both strange and wonderful. Those moments mattered, even if I did not fully appreciate them at the time. They remind me that wonder still shows up, even when I am distracted by my own thoughts.

The truth is, I do not remember large parts of the year very well. I was too lost inside my own head. There was a lot of emotional spinning and not much structure. Looking back, I can see how easily self pity crept in and how little it helped. Laughing at myself helped more than sinking deeper, because tears alone do not create change unless they lead somewhere useful.

This year became less about what happened and more about what it revealed. Reading my own words showed me patterns that have been repeating for decades. Grief, stress, and responsibility have layered themselves one on top of another, and each time I regain my footing, something new seems to knock me sideways. Recognizing that pattern is uncomfortable but necessary. It helps explain why drifting has become my default and why focus feels so difficult to maintain.

What this year really taught me is that reflection is not indulgent, and it is not weakness. When done honestly, it becomes a tool. Without it, I drift. Without some kind of structure, I lose momentum and direction. That realization alone feels like progress, even if it does not come with instant solutions.

This has been more of a review of my inner landscape than a neat list of accomplishments or failures, and that is okay. Maybe this is exactly the kind of review I needed after all. 2025 was good in some ways and hard in others. Helping people in small ways brought meaning. Frustrations also took up more mental space than they deserved. Learning to let go of that mental clutter feels like part of the work ahead.

Looking back now, I can see that this year was not empty or wasted. It was quiet, messy, emotional, and unfinished. It showed me where I get stuck and what I need more of going forward: structure, intention, and gentleness, especially during the winter months. Naming all of this feels like the first solid step toward steadier ground and a more intentional year ahead.

Closing note:
In my next post, I look forward instead of back. I start turning these reflections into simple, practical goals for 2026, focusing on health, creativity, home, and showing up for life with more intention.

Happy Holidays

 The last one read like the manifesto of a suicide I know but I am not one of those. I've just been going through a rough patch.

Something  else is on my mind today and has been for awhile. Winter gives you nothing but time to think and December especially seems like a month for introspection what with the season of good will towards men turning into the lead up for a brand new year. For years I started this process right after my birthday in October but with all the shit I'm dealing with to get myself set up for the next 20-40 years,(turning 65 is no fun), I have just barely started the process.

A long time ago a doctor told me that obesity is a long slow death so that it what I chose but these days I am actually unhappy with my weight because it has begun to interfere with the thing I like best like travelling to new places and exploring them.

I have become more and more unhappy with myself over the last couple of months.  It has got to the point that I order in my groceries rather than go fetch them myself unless I have a ride. I hope that makes sense. Change is so hard though! 

I had a program I think it was near the beginning of the year where I did a couple of stretches in bed then got up and did some marching in place before I even got dressed. I had a whole routine for the morning: movement, making my bed, getting dressed, eating breakfast, cleaning up afterwards before I even turned my computer on. That routine and many others are very missing in my life and I miss it/them.

I kept that one up for 6 months I think before something came along and derailed me. That is the longest I've ever stuck to a routine. Now that I think on it it may have been a couple of years.

Since COVID so much has changed and this new political situation has caused prices to soar once again. Its been a long time since you could get a loaf of bread for a buck and even longer since you could get a can a pop and a small bag of chips for a quarter at the Five and Dime these days everything is a buck or two and they are called Dollar Stores.

Yeah I am old enough to remember the five and dime but that is not what I am talking about today. I miss my rut at least then I was doing something. These days all I do is play games, read and watch TV. Most of that on my computer.

I am all over the place today, memories are coming thick and fast but memories is not where I want to go. I want to get myself into a routine one that won't be derailed if I'm sharing my bed or sleeping in a hotel room and that is going to take some thinking and a lot of practice.

Microsoft To-Do is my planner of choice because it can be anywhere there is internet and you have a Microsoft ID which most people these day people do and it can contain a lot of lists that can be time-tabled and shown in one window with check boxes and everything. 

I have set up a lot of lists on it but I really need organize them better so that I don't have duplicates. It is easy and though it may not be as complex as one of the pricey ones I like it just fine. That is what I've been working on for the last couple of weeks with a little help from ChatGPT. While it is useful it definitely needs some refining which I'll be working on between now and the new year.

There is a book I have in my collection called Atomic Habits  which I highly recommend if you are struggling with keeping a regular routine, it will be one of the books I'll be referring to over the next couple of weeks to help me get organized again. This time I hope more than a couple of things will stick.

Another book I recommend is CHAOS to Clean which is the only book since the Sidetracked Sisters that I have found helpful for getting the house clean and organized. It is also on my reference list for the next couple of weeks because I really love her program 31 Easy Baby Steps. 

There are others but these two have helped me the most over the years and they will be the building blocks I will use to create a daily routine I can follow that works for me.

The other thing I need to find is a plan of some sort that will help me with my diabetes and hypertension. I really don't want a heart attack! This part of the planning will not be easy. As of right this minute I have enough to pay my rent and buy a few groceries. If I forgo food I can pay for my internet too but that leaves me no money for anything else. That makes me sad I have become used to living a life where I can afford almost anything I wanted but since my birthday I have found myself going to E for help far more than I am comfortable with.

Diet and Finances those are the two areas that I am having great difficulty with with all the changes that have happened since 2025 began. I will be glad to see the end of it. I hope 2026 is better. Happy holidays and wish me luck changing my life for the better.

Another Day, Another Tangle of Feelings

 Some days I get in my own head so deeply that I lose track of where the pain ends and where my words begin. When that happens, people sometimes get hurt — even the ones I care about. I don’t mean to. I don’t even fully understand why. If someone asks how I feel, I tell them… but the truth is, sometimes I don’t think they’re prepared to hear it. And if I’m being honest, sometimes neither am I.

Talking has never been easy for me, especially when emotions run high. The words vanish when I try to speak them, but when I write, they come out — raw, messy, and real. Writing is how I manage the pain. It’s also how I avoid interacting with people when I’m struggling, because I’m not great at it. The words feel safer on paper than in conversation.

Today they come slowly. I’m sitting with a lot of sadness and regret for the things I said yesterday. I was angry — more than I realized — and I let it spill onto someone who didn’t deserve it quite that way. He asked how I was feeling (or did he? I’m not sure anymore), and I unloaded more than either of us was ready for. I don’t regret being honest, but I regret the way it landed.

Right now, I’m tired of hiding how fragmented I feel inside. I’m tired of pretending everything is fine just to make others more comfortable. I’ve spent so much time accommodating everyone else that somewhere along the way, I started losing pieces of myself.

In Other News: E and I are Struggling

We’re fighting — not about anything important in the bigger picture, but small things that carry heavier meaning. He has a habit of reclaiming items he’s given away if the person later throws them out or passes them on. I threw away an air fryer he gave me over five years ago because it was beyond saving, and he wouldn’t let it go. I asked him twice to stop, but he wouldn’t. So I snapped.

I told him to stop, and when he signed off with “I love you, bye,” all I could manage was “bye.” Because in that moment, I didn’t feel loved. I felt distrusted — like I’d done something wrong by choosing cleanliness over clutter.

So I’ve decided if he wants to cook here, he can bring what he needs and take it back with him. If I’m not “responsible enough” to keep his things, then I won’t keep them. Truthfully, I don’t want anything material from him. What I wanted — what I still want — is care. Time. To be seen.

I wanted his undivided attention once in a while, to matter more than work, more than obligation. But instead, I’ve spent years in the background, supporting him quietly while feeling invisible. It hurts to admit that. It hurts more to wonder if I ever really mattered to him the way I hoped I did.

The Hard Part

The complicated truth is this: I still love him. I can’t imagine life without him. I just wish I felt loved back — or even cherished, occasionally prioritized. Instead, I feel like a convenience. A safe place to visit. Someone he comes to for comfort, not someone he chooses for connection.

Yesterday, I felt treated not as a partner but as untrustworthy. As a child. And I am tired. I survived before him, and I can survive again if I have to. I don’t want to… but I will if nothing changes.

For now, I’m sitting with what’s real. Not rushing it. Not burying it. Just writing it down so it stops echoing so loudly inside. Because I’ve learned something, even through the mess:

Being honest may hurt, but hiding yourself hurts more.

Tears

I am lost in my head today and my heart hurts. I've had to close my window to the out-siders and I have told them why. If I don't I risk losing my apartment and I will not allow myself to become homeless but then I'm accused of lying. I care I care too much but I can't afford to lose my apartment I just can't going out in the cold it makes my knee go haywire and I can barely walk.

Yeah E I know I should have told you that but I still want to do the week-end we planned I will just have to wear my brace

The tears won't stop but at least they are silent, when I first was ordered to stop I burst into loud noisy tears as soon as I closed my window.

The outsiders are so used to being homeless that someone withdrawing support to keep the roof over their head seems to them like I was faking the whole time my window was available to them because now it isn't. I understand them being upset at me I'm upset too. I will not give up my home for them I can't. 

With the cold comes all sorts of aches and pains that only come when its cold. Those aches and pains limit my activity enough without being forced to sleep outside. Oh I could couch surf for a little while but what kind of life is that for a 65 year old woman. 

The tears won't stop , the lonliness and depression are already making themselves known. If I were not so fearful I wouldn't care I'd do it anyway but 60 days from the end of November puts us smack into the end of January I would not survive.

I know I have people who will take me in for a few weeks maybe but it is not the same as having my own place. 

Two days later the water is back on my sill because I had about 35 bottles that I know I won't drink all of. The sign in my window says only water and juice crystals knock. Some will see it and it will eventually all be taken it's just going to take a little bit. After two day of the sign telling everyone I was ordered to close my window they are going to be reluctant and since they know why it happened they will avoid the area for a week or so. Still better out there than in here going to waste.

The food I sent to the tiny homes, the first aid stuff I sent to 186. 

I am still not sure if I'm going to be able to pay my rent but at least I am safer now than I was. I will get to keep the apartment for a little while at least. 

A short story for you

 I had the pieces of this short story in my poetry journal today I'd like to share it with you as a single chapter from a possibly larger version.

The Bridge of Aszis

How very sad, I used to think, that a mind can live its whole life locked inside a skull.

On Earth, that thought came to me in crowded trains, in noisy cafeterias, in classrooms where people’s eyes were dull from too many facts and not enough wonder. I would look at all those faces and feel it — the sense that we were all carrying entire galaxies of thought and feeling, and most of it would never be known.

Many mysteries does our mind hide. There is so much to learn.

When I was ten, the headaches started — bright white bursts behind my eyes whenever someone nearby felt something intense. I could tell when my teacher was about to snap at the class, when the stranger across the bus aisle was quietly grieving, when my mother was worrying about money and trying not to show it. I didn’t hear their thoughts, not exactly. I felt their weight.

By twelve, I could push back. If someone’s anger boiled too loud in a room, I could nudge it down without knowing how. Calm the edges. Blur the sharpness. It scared me.

My parents did what scared parents do: they got me tested.

The tests came back with quiet urgency and a stack of documents stamped with the emblem of a world I had only heard in rumours: Aszis.

By eighteen, the choice was made. My headaches were worse. My accidental nudges stronger. Earth’s crowded, hurting mind pressed against mine like static.

So on a grey morning that smelled like wet concrete, I stood in a small park with my parents and tried not to cry.

The transport point shimmered between the bare trees, a circle of air that looked like heat over asphalt even though the ground was cold.

“You don’t have to go,” my father said, his hands jammed in his coat pockets as if he could hold the moment there by sheer will.

We all knew better. People like me either learned control or they burned out. My mother’s eyes were red from a week of not sleeping.

She stepped closer, took my hands, and for the first time in my life she pushed gently at my mind, the way you might tap on a window.

Can you hear me?

I blinked.

Yes.

She gave me a sad little smile.

Go. Learn. Bring something back to heal us.

Aloud, she said, “Don’t let them make you forget where you came from.”

“I won’t,” I said.

The gate brightened. I stepped into the light.

Transition wasn’t like walking anywhere. It felt more like falling inward.

One heartbeat I was in the wounded park; the next I was surrounded by violet.

The Zim grass stretched in all directions, waves of purple under a soft breeze. Above the field, the sky was gold near the horizon, blue overhead. No smog. The air carried the smells of soil and something sweet, like distant fruit.

Towering burgandies rose overhead, massive living structures with maroon leaves filtering warm light.

Students glided along paths, some walking, some drifting slightly above the ground through mind-power.

A presence brushed my awareness — warm, gentle.

Welcome, a voice said inside my head.

A tall figure approached. “I am Teral. Instructor at the University of the Mind.”

They guided me to the University woven into the Burgandies themselves — hollows, terraces, chambers grown rather than built.

Our first lesson took place in a circular root chamber. Teral stood in the centre.

“Before you learn to shape the world,” they said, “you must learn to shape your own mind.”

We received translucent thought-stones. “Lift it a hand’s breadth,” Teral said.

Simple.

Mine shot upward like a launched spark. A ripple of force burst from me and disrupted half the class.

Flush-faced, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Power is common,” Teral said gently. “Understanding is rare.”

I slept deeply that night — until the visions started.

Earth and Aszis overlapping. Light threads connecting worlds. Two possibilities merging, separating. And always, at the centre, a single bright point.

Me.

During meditation, the vision solidified. A voice said:

You are the bridge. Not between places. Between ways of being.

I didn’t understand — until the message from Earth arrived.

Representative Lian appeared on a holo-disc. “Our world is failing. We ask for your help.”

The Aszis Council feared giving power to a wounded world. Lian feared losing billions of lives.

Two truths.

Both real.

I stepped forward.

“Let me try something,” I said.

With consent, I linked Lian’s emotions — her fear, duty, hope — to the Council’s awareness. And I linked the Council’s calm harmony back to her.

No force. No intrusion. Just feeling.

Silence followed, deep and shifting.

Lian whispered, “I didn’t know how much we hurt.”

“And we did not know how much you love what remains,” a councillor said.

So a plan formed: not factories of mental power, but a small school. A beginning grounded in empathy, not ability. Slow. Careful. Real.

And one day, when my training is complete, I will return to Earth — not with blueprints, but with ways of seeing.

I’ll tell them what Aszis taught me: that there’s a whole other world inside our minds. And the wonders come not from what we build, but what we understand.

 

What is this?

 This is a poetic version of the prologue from my book, you will find a strange new word in it mycorrhizal which is what the layer just under the surface that connects all the trees is called, I've also heard it called the Wide Wood Web. It is how they communicate and also helps them grow by bringing water and minerals to the trees as they need them. I planned this story to bring awareness of our need to care for our trees and other plants cause if they die we die. An educational version is also in the works. Read it and tell me what you think. All seven of you please. I want to make sure it can speak well.

🌲 When the Forest First Sang

Before the first dawn brushed the sky with breath of gold
the world lay still, a whisper waiting to be told
From soil’s deep heart a shimmer stirred and rose
a pulse of life where secret knowing flows

The Guardian awoke in threads unseen
a song of root and rain between
Each droplet hummed a tender tone
binding stone and seed as one

From darkness green light unfurled
moss wove carpets across the world
Tiny spores took flight in dream
to weave the forest’s living theme

Beneath the loam soft voices grew
the first mycorrhizal choir flew
They sang of balance deep and wide
of roots that meet where worlds collide

Then came the Mother Trees—four hearts in bloom
their crowns of song dispelled the gloom
Willow whispered wisdom clear
Birch brought hope and silver cheer
Oak stood firm with courage’s might
Pine breathed strength through endless night

All beings woke within that tune
mushroom folk and bears of lume
Spiders spun the light of dawn
wolves of shadow watched withdrawn

Yet even as the forest sang
a tremor through the balance rang
For where there’s light the dark will creep
and sow its hunger in the deep

The Guardian wept but did not flee
she planted faith in every tree
and whispered to the roots below
that love must learn through ebb and flow

When the first song met the sky’s soft flame
life remembered from whence it came
The forest sang—and hearts replied
in every leaf, the soul inside