At the beginning of 2025, I remember feeling restless in a way I couldn’t quite name. Nothing was particularly wrong, but I wasn’t at peace. Over time, I began making small, intentional changes. A quiet resistance to the noise, urgency, and constant self-optimization that modern culture rewards. Those choices, modest as they may seem, reshaped how I live, work, and pay attention to what matters most.
What surprised me most was not what I lost, but what I recovered. The first change I made was also the least glamorous.
Breaking Free from the Feed
I added a daily time limit on my social media apps. It sounds like a small change, but it proved to be a game changer. Many of my wins in 2025 can be traced back to that single, intentional boundary.
With fewer hours spent scrolling, I returned to simple rituals I had either forgotten or never allowed myself the space to keep. Quiet mornings with a journal. Thoughtful meals. Unhurried conversations with my husband. Even boredom! The kind that invites reflection. None of it felt radical at first, but over time, it reordered my days in meaningful ways.
Limiting social media also introduced me to a discomfort I hadn’t realized I was avoiding: silence.
I noticed how often, when work felt stressful or unresolved, I reached for my phone during lunch. Not for rest, but for escape. I wasn’t engaging in my thoughts, I was numbing them. Over time, I recognized this habit for what it was: a reluctance to sit with discomfort.
True growth rarely comes from avoiding our own thoughts. Sitting with silence can feel demanding, even uncomfortable, but it is also profoundly revealing. It shows us where we are restless, what we are avoiding, and how we might act with greater intention.
What Absence Reveals
Fasting is a deeply Catholic practice, one that this convert (raises hand) had largely overlooked until last year. In 2025, I approached it with greater intention, and I plan to continue.
What struck me most was the clarity it brought. Fasting revealed my attachments and my habits.
I began with the things I most loved. Champagne, for example. I love the way it is poured, the delicate bubbles, the crystal coupé it’s served in, and the joy it brings when shared with friends and family. Fasting from it made me appreciate it even more. Soon I realized fasting doesn’t need to be limited to food or drink. It can be a discipline for other areas of life. I have fasted from sleeping in on the weekends to savor more of the day, and from reading (a love of mine!) to spending time with family, friends, and writing. Each small denial opened space for presence and intention.
I learned that fasting doesn’t need to be dramatic to be transformative. Even small, intentional absences can reveal what we reach for automatically, and why. Choose one thing you love that often fills your time automatically, whether it is a drink, a favorite snack, a screen, or a habit. Set it aside for a day or a portion of your day and notice what happens. The absence may feel challenging at first, but it will bring surprising clarity and gratitude for ordinary joys.
Tracing Growth in Ink & Hindsight
My first journal was gifted to me when I was a little girl. It was a Lisa Frank notebook, neon pink with ballet shoes floating in clouds, complete with a tiny lock and key. The pages were filled with drawings and half-formed thoughts, but the habit stuck.
A few weeks before the new year, I found myself discouraged. I had been praying for something very specific, and the silence felt heavy. Out of frustration, I opened my journal from early 2025 and was encouraged.
Page after page revealed how God had been quietly preparing me for something better than what I had asked for. Patterns emerged. Growth I hadn’t recognized. What became clear was not that nothing had been happening, but that I had been unable to see it while I was living it.
If you’re in a season where prayers feel unanswered or progress feels invisible, I hope this encourages you to write things down. Notice patterns. Revisit old pages. Growth often happens quietly, long before we recognize it as growth at all. Silence is not wasted time, and it is not a sign of absence. Sometimes it is simply the space where deeper work is being done.
Creating a Midday Pause
I’ve been drinking tea since childhood, a habit I shared with my dad. It remained a quiet constant in my life until I entered the workplace.
Office life meant coffee from morning to evening. While I still enjoy coffee, too much left me anxious, overstimulated, and restless. Last April, I transitioned to fully remote work, and with it came the return of something small but grounding: four o’clock tea.
That daily pause became a marker in my day, a moment to step out of urgency and back into presence. It was never really about the tea. It was about choosing stillness in the middle of motion. That brief break before the clock chimed five gave me a second wind, a gentle reset that helped me finish the day well. It became a time to reflect on what I could complete before logging off, what could wait until tomorrow, and how I wanted to transition out of work mode once the day ended.
If there is one encouragement here, it is this: small pauses matter. You don’t need a long afternoon off or a perfectly structured routine to restore order to your day. Choose one moment, whether it is tea, a walk, or a few minutes of quiet reflection, and let it become a reminder that our days are meant to be lived with intention, not rushed from one task to the next.
Here’s to 2026
At the beginning of 2025, I couldn’t name what was missing. Looking back now, I see that what I was craving wasn’t change, but discipline. As 2026 begins, that’s what I hope to continue tending—not a perfect life, but a more present one.
Don’t be afraid to turn off your phone now and then. Fast from something you love, even briefly. You may be surprised by what you notice when it is gone. You might learn something about your habits, your attachments, or yourself.
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