Balancing Hope and Realism in the New Year

As the new year begins, I’ve found myself reflecting on how much I’ve changed—and how those changes have reshaped the way I approach this season.

I used to be the person with pages of goals and plans, brainstorming all the ways I could be different and better. But over time, I’ve realized that approach didn’t serve me. It left me feeling worse about myself, frustrated by all the ways I couldn’t magically transform overnight just because the calendar changed.

And honestly, I was already barely surviving. Adding the pressure of “becoming better” on top of the stress and exhaustion of the holidays felt impossible. No matter how hard I tried to create a magical season, I still ended up drained and alone. Big life changes in the wake of that? It just wasn’t sustainable.

This year, I’m stepping into something different. The past few weeks have brought their share of challenges, but also clarity, growth, and a new way of approaching life.

One of the most significant shifts for me has been learning to balance hope with realism. Hope has always been part of my healing, but it’s a tricky thing. At times, hope has felt like a trap—a way of bypassing reality, holding out for a magical future that never came.

Now, hope looks different. It’s grounded. Instead of hoping people in my life will change or meet my needs, I’ve started focusing on meeting those needs myself. I’ve stopped waiting for relationships to magically transform and started working on creating healthier dynamics—ones that don’t drain me, but allow me to maintain my autonomy while still connecting.

Boundaries have been key in this. They’re no longer a last resort or something I dread—they’re a lifeline. They protect my peace, remind me of my power, and help me honor what I need.

I’ve also let go of an older version of myself—the “churchy wife” who sacrificed herself for the sake of others, who put service and submission above authenticity. That version of me made sense in a different phase of life, but she’s not who I am now. Reclaiming my voice and honoring my truth has been freeing, but it’s also brought its own questions: Can the “new me” fit into my old relationships?

This is where realism meets hope. I’m not willing to lose myself again. I’ve worked too hard to find my voice and build resilience to go back to old patterns. At the same time, I’m staying open to possibility—being present with the uncertainty, knowing I don’t have to have all the answers today.

What I’ve realized is that healing isn’t about dramatic resolutions or overnight transformations. It’s not about abandoning who I am today in hopes of becoming someone “better” tomorrow. It’s about the daily work of showing up for myself, honoring my needs, and trusting in the resilience I’ve built—piece by piece.

Now, I prefer the steady grind of honoring my needs (even imperfectly) to the old hamster wheel of self-sacrifice disguised as sacred devotion.

As I step into this new year, I’m holding on to the balance I’ve worked so hard to build. It’s not flashy, but it’s real. And it’s mine.