I am not rushing toward the new year.
I am letting it find me—
shoes off, heart open,
laughing in the doorway of December.
This month does not ask for reinvention.
It asks for presence.
For breath.
For noticing the way the light softens at four-thirty,
the way time itself seems to exhale
and say, You made it. Sit down.
December is not a deadline.
It is a velvet pause.
A month that leans in close and whispers,
“Enjoy what you survived.”
I honor the new me—
not the polished version,
not the one who finally has it all figured out
(because let’s be honest, she’s fictional),
But the real one:
the woman who learned to rest without guilt,
to receive without explaining,
to accept help without turning it into a TED Talk.
This is the me who no longer treats support
like a suspicious package.
Who understands that being held
does not make her weaker—
It makes her wiser.
It makes her human.
December teaches this gently,
with candles and long pauses,
with unfinished lists and unbothered evenings.
It reminds us that presence
is its own kind of success.
I celebrate the version of myself
who knows when to stop pushing
and start enjoying.
Who understands that joy
is not a reward for productivity,
but a practice.
A sacred one.
As the year prepares to turn the page,
I do not chase resolutions—
I toast to integration.
To become whole instead of perfect.
To laughter echoing in quiet rooms.
To moments that don’t need documenting
to be real.
December says:
Receive the love.
Receive the support.
Receive the rest.
And I listen.
Because honoring the new me
means knowing that becoming
doesn’t always look like motion—
sometimes it seems like sitting still,
hands open, heart soft,
smiling at the miracle of being here,
now.
This is how I enter the new year:
present, supported,
slightly amused by my own growth,
wrapped in gratitude,
and deeply in love
with the woman I am becoming—
One December moment at a time–
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