Last post of the year. Usually this is the time for recaps, lists of achievements, and symbolic closure. I’ve never really liked that. I’m not a fan of big summaries, and I’m definitely not comfortable being too self-referential.
That said, a year is coming to an end, and it’s been a meaningful one.
New job. Bought a house. Wrote here every week. Lost weight. Ran my first proper 10Ks.
On paper, it’s a year to remember. More importantly, it’s been a year that marked a real shift in my life. I feel happier, more grounded, and mentally more stable than I was twelve months ago.
Still, I don’t love recaps.
Growth, at least for me, isn’t something that fits neatly between January and December. It’s continuous. Putting a hard stop on it at New Year’s Eve feels artificial, like a finish line that makes restarting in January harder than it should be. The process doesn’t end just because the calendar flips.
I’m also wary of looking back too much. I’ve always felt you’re only as good as your last bit of work. Celebrating past achievements excessively can create a false sense of safety, and that’s where complacency and arrogance sneak in. I’m proud of what I’ve done, but it means very little if I stop showing up tomorrow.
What I do use this time for is thinking.
Day-to-day life is messy: small events, mood swings, noise, fatigue. It’s hard to see the bigger picture when you’re inside it. Stepping back, even briefly, helps you understand where you are, where you’re heading, and whether the direction still makes sense.
Looking at this year through that lens, I can say one thing with confidence: I’m exactly where I hoped I’d be.
This time last year I felt low, stuck, and fairly hopeless. At some point I realised that complaining — even justified complaining — wasn’t helping. So I stopped. Not magically, not overnight, but deliberately. I started taking action.
Nothing heroic. Just commitments to myself.
I updated my CV. I studied the things I knew I was weak at. I stopped lying to myself in the mirror. I cleaned up my habits — eating better, moving more, journaling, writing, meditating. I treated work as a path I was choosing, not a chore I was stuck with.
Results didn’t come all at once, but they came. Interviews. Weight going down. Mental clarity. A new job. A 12k run. Proof that progress was possible.
Even in the harder moments, I kept showing up. And I noticed something simple, almost trivial, but incredibly powerful: results correlate with effort. Not instantly, not linearly, but inevitably.
If you show up consistently and act with intent, things move. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes sideways. Sometimes in ways you didn’t expect. But they move.
I’m writing this in the last hours of the year. A year that gave me a lot — but not a destination. More like the beginning of a mental shift. A growing understanding that many of my limits were self-imposed, poorly examined, and rarely real.
I don’t know exactly where I’m going. But I know the direction feels right. So the plan is simple: keep going, double down on the process, and see where it leads.
I also know this time of year can be heavy. The weight of unmet goals, the anxiety of the unknown, the pressure of “starting over.” If that’s you, I genuinely hope you find clarity and energy.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: the only thing that really matters is the first step.
Not next Monday. Not after the holidays. Not in January.
Just take it.
You never know where it might lead — it could be the sliding door you’ve been waiting for.