What Led Me to My 2026 Vision Board (And Why I’m Choosing Steady Over Intense)

I’ve always been the kind of person who plans ahead.

Not in a rigid, color-coded, every-minute-accounted-for way — but in a “let’s pause, reflect, and name what we’re actually moving toward” kind of way. The kind of planning that isn’t about control, but about clarity.

That’s probably why my cousin Laura and I get each other so well.

She’s one of those people who believes deeply in reflection, intention, and naming seasons — and she’s also one of the people who gently but firmly pushed me to start this blog. She’s said it more than once: “You have a lot to say. And a lot of people feel alone in the things you talk about.”

She was right.

So when she suggested we do a vision board to kick off the year, it wasn’t about aesthetics or trends. It was about survival. About processing. About making sense of a season that, for many of us, felt heavy in ways we couldn’t always articulate.

Because honestly? The last few months have been a lot.

When Gratitude Exists… But the Magic Feels Distant

I want to be clear about something before I go any further:

I am deeply grateful for my life.

I’m grateful for my kids. For my home. For warmth, food, breath in my lungs. I’ve always been someone who notices the small blessings — the ones that keep you grounded when everything else feels shaky.

But I also need to be honest: I haven’t felt like myself for a while.

Since around September 2025, it’s felt like one thing after another. It started with car issues that hit me financially in a way I haven’t fully recovered from yet. And once you’re already stretched, it doesn’t take much for everything else to feel heavier.

Even things that usually bring me joy — especially during the holidays — felt muted.

And that’s saying something, because Christmas is my favorite.

December 24th and 25th are sacred to me. Not just because of the faith behind them — celebrating the greatest gift God ever gave — but because of the magic. The lights. The cold air. The hot chocolate. The music. The childlike wonder that I still carry inside me.

I don’t just do Christmas for my kids.

I do it with them — and for the little girl in me, too.

But this year, even that magic felt… quieter.

Not gone. Just harder to reach.

Feeling “Behind” in Every Direction

By the end of the year, I found myself carrying this low-level ache — the feeling that I wasn’t where I wanted to be in any area of my life.

Financially.

Professionally.

Personally.

Romantically.

I’m grateful for my job, especially knowing how many people faced layoffs this season. But as a single mom, my brain is always running numbers in the background. Always asking, What’s the next layer of security? How do I loosen the grip just a little?

Part of that is circumstance.

Part of it is my own wiring.

I’ve always been someone who moves. Who pushes. Who does the next thing. Who believes that if I just keep going, everything will eventually catch up.

But this season forced me to stop long enough to ask a harder question:

What if I don’t need more?

What if I need to live better with what I already have?

That question changed everything.

Loneliness Inside Connection

Romantically, I was coming off a situation that I hesitate to even call a relationship.

It was over a year of trying. Of effort. Of patience. Of hope. And no matter what I did, it never seemed to be enough to move things forward.

There was always something — fear, trauma, timing, hesitation — that kept things stuck.

And the truth is, being lonely with someone is far more painful than being lonely alone.

I found myself feeling unseen. Unchosen. Like I was always waiting for the relationship to “level up,” while quietly shrinking my needs to keep the peace.

That kind of loneliness sneaks up on you. It doesn’t announce itself. It just settles in.

And by the time the holidays rolled around, everything felt tender.

January 1st, a Lost Purse, and an Unexpected Mercy

Then came January 1st.

I lost my purse. Completely.

New makeup. Cards. Everything.

What’s wild is that I didn’t even realize it was gone for two full days. I went to work. Visited my parents. Lived my life. It wasn’t until Saturday — when I was about to leave the house to do the vision board — that I noticed.

After a lot of prayer, the last place I remembered having it was Macy’s at the South Shore Mall in Braintree.

My mom prayed. I prayed. And honestly, I told God, “Whatever happens, I trust you.”

When I went back, the purse was there.

An honest customer had turned it in. Nothing was missing. Not a single card. Not a single charge.

It was one of those quiet, tender mercies — the kind God gives you when you’re already worn down. A reminder that even in loss, He’s still present.

Learning to Stop Moving for One Day

That same weekend, something else happened.

On Friday — the second day of the year — I did absolutely nothing.

I stayed home. I rested. I ignored the urge to “make the day count.”

My kids complained. “It’s getting dark.” “We’re not doing anything.”

And for once, I didn’t cave.

I told them the truth: “We’ve been doing a lot. Today, we’re resting.”

That moment stayed with me.

Because I’m not that mom. I’m usually the one planning the outing, packing the snacks, filling the calendar.

But something in me knew — we needed stillness.

The Vision Board That Chose Me

When we finally sat down to make the vision boards, I noticed something.

I wasn’t drawn to words like hustle or more or next level.

What kept coming up instead were phrases like:

Steady.

Slow.

Calm.

Rest.

Gratitude.

Slow and steady wins the race.

That phrase played on a loop in my mind.

I realized I don’t want a different life.

I want to experience the one I’m already building.

I want to work toward my goals — yes.

But without intensity. Without self-punishment. Without constantly measuring myself against some invisible timeline.

I give so much grace to everyone else.

It’s time I give some to myself.

Choosing Intention Over Intensity

This season isn’t about reinventing myself.

It’s about honoring the work I’ve already done — and continuing it in a way that feels sustainable.

Intentional instead of intense.

Steady instead of frantic.

Faith-led instead of fear-driven.

I want my kids to see a mom who keeps going — but not at the cost of herself. A mom who rests. A mom who trusts God. A mom who sees beauty even when life is messy.

That’s what this vision board represents.

Not perfection.

Not pressure.

But permission.

Permission to live slowly.

Permission to be grateful and tired at the same time.

Permission to build a life that feels steady enough to stay inside.

And for the first time in a long time — that feels like exactly what I need.