2026 - New Year, New Me.

I used to love that day in school, when we were given a brand new writing book. It was a thing of mint, undefiled beauty - filling us with a quiet, focused determination to write really nicely. To do really well. I mean, OK, we were easily pleased back then, but there was still an undeniable thrill which - to this day - draws me helplessly to the pen and ink of the stationery shop.

New books, new beginnings, New Years. They are all versions of a familiar and robust re-set. The sharp pencils and clean slates that can ground us at the start of a year. Tonics for the endless "summing ups" that we are left with, post-Christmas. "This year in pictures" and "Those who we lost this year"..always reminding us all of what went on and how generally ghastly it all was. No wonder then, that we are fully drawn into the comfort of "begin-again", with the kind of discipline and resolve that makes Lego worthwhile.

The trouble with most New Year's resolutions, is not the implied self-restraint that is front and centre, nor is it the necessary will-power required to "give up" booze or bacon. It is that these declarations of do or die, are built on an unspoken belief that something about us is fundamentally wrong. That we are in some way ashamed of the way we were, in the year just passed - and that the weight alone (pun intended) of all the feelings of shame and self-blame, will be excellent motivators. Except they are absolutely NOT.

Shame is not a spark or a stimulus for anything remotely positive. Shame narrows us. It makes us perform and pretend. Shame is not the soil where meaningful change grows. When shame is the captain of our ship, our energy turns inward - not toward curiosity or comprehension, but toward the lifeboats of self-protection. We become more concerned with how we appear than with what we might be experiencing. We shrink to unkindly edit ourselves, we manage the impressions we make, and strive to look like we have it fully “together,” even when something inside us is begging for honest recognition. The ship starts to list heavily.

In this narrowed state, change becomes fragile and consequently very short-lived. We are not exploring, we are performing. We are not listening, we are risk-managing. And therefore, the growth that is governed by "hiding" parts of ourselves has a hideously short half-life, because it asks us to market a version of us that is so far from reality, that we couldn't see our real selves through the Hubble telescope.

Fatly sat, at the other end of the see-saw, is Perfectionism. The school bully who wears the uniform of ambition and self-improvement. It is another strategy of self-preservation and avoidance. The pursuit of perfect is "all mouth and trousers", as we English say. Perfect is all theatre and performance - a suspension of real belief. It leaves no room for an honest mistake or a missed step. Not forgetting of course, that perfection is never, ever, attainable.

I think real growth is a bit more messy than that. Perhaps more so that we would ideally like. It means trying things we might not be very good at. It means falling down and getting up again, it is actually being in "the arena", spinning plates and being ok with a few that smash on the floor. Real growth happens when we admit we don't yet have the answer. That we are more than a little bit afraid. That we want something "different" but we are just not sure how to get there.

Take the concept of confidence par exemple.. many people would say "I need to be way more confident" - before I sing the lead role, or speak in public, or show you my artwork. Yet in reality, confidence rarely precedes real change (and the brave vulnerability it takes to achieve it). Confidence - the real tattoo, not the henna - follows change.

We could choose to close the loop on all this "New Year, New Me" stuff with a look back at the "worthiness" of it all.. I think that deep down, we make these resolutions to feel more "worthy" around the praise of our peers, to see if we fit in, or see how we are now perceived. But let's try and radically rid oursleves of that idea - that worthiness is some kind of reward - or worse still - that the reward is some badge of worthiness. Dear readers, we are all, already worthy. Being worthy is not some sticker you get through successful self-improvement. Self-worth is the ground you stand on as you grow. If we start from this baseline, real change becomes an act of self-care, not the sequel to self-loathing. We will make different choices in 2026 not because we were inadequate in 2025, but because we have chosen to pay attention.

Maybe we could consider changing the lexicon of January 01 change from "resolutions" to New Years re-orientations - ways to meet and greet the New Year with compassionate honesty rather than "I will never look fat in jeans again. Ever". We really don't need to reinvent ourselves in 2026. We don't need a cunning, flawless plan, or levels of self-discipline that would make a Saint blush. Change doesn't manifest when we get you and me "right"; it begins when we stop losing our authentic selves in the process.

So that is my quiet invitation to the New Year: not to become someone else entirely, but to come home to who we already are.

Happy New Year...