New Year’s Eve always feels a bit weird to me. The world shouts about resolutions, fresh starts, “new you” energy… and I’m usually just thinking, yeah, let’s get this year in the rear window and keep going.

Resolutions are great if they work for you — truly. But they’ve never been my thing. They feel like assigning myself homework I already know I won’t do.

And honestly? If all you did this year was survive it, that counts. Some years are like that. I mean, I barely kept myself upright some days — never mind achieving anything shiny or impressive — so if you made it through with your sanity mostly intact, you’re already winning.

What I can get behind is taking a minute to check in with myself. Not a big reinvention moment — just an honest “what do I want more of going forward?”

For me, it’s kindness. To myself, to other people, to the person blaming their sewing machine for their thread snapping because the thread is basically vintage at this point — and not in a cute way. And it’s showing up as my actual self, not the polished January version.

Making things will still be my way of steadying the world. It doesn’t fix anything global, but it helps me manage the day-to-day noise. If making helps you too, keep at it. If something else grounds you, do that.

So here’s my wish for 2025

Less pressure. More authenticity. A bit more gentleness — for ourselves and each other. Nothing dramatic. Just real people trying again.

Here’s to the new year being even a little softer than the last. If we can manage that much, I’ll take it.