Happy New Year - What I’m Choosing Instead of New Year’s Resolutions
- StevenMiyao

- Jan 6
- 5 min read

A reflection on identity, discomfort, and what really matters when the old answers stop working.
I don’t know how this past year was for you, but for many of us, it was unsettling. Tumultuous in ways we didn’t expect. The kind of year that looks at your carefully constructed life and asks us questions on who we are, what we value, and what’s no longer working.
And while that kind of year can leave us feeling disoriented, it can also open up space to reflect, to learn, and to grow in ways we never would have chosen, but apparently have to deal with anyway.
That’s where I’ve found myself. Not writing a list of resolutions, but looking at what this past year revealed and asking what I want to carry forward.
This post is an honest look at what’s shifting in me, and maybe in you, too, unless I’m the only one rethinking things at the end of a crazy year.
My Body Was Trying to Tell Me Something
The first signs that something was off came through my body. Pain in my hips, neck, and back that lingered and deepened. I did all the usual things: stretching, moving, and slowing down. But the pain didn’t go away.
Eventually, I had to admit: this wasn’t just physical.
I was holding too much responsibility, pressure, and grief. And my body, in its own way, was telling me: You can’t carry all this the same way anymore.
I’ve come to believe that we store what we don’t face. And when we ignore it, it speaks through tension, pain, or exhaustion. That pain became insights, maybe not pleasant ones, but honest ones.
In the year ahead, I want to be kinder to others and to myself. I want to check in with what hurts and ask what it’s trying to tell me.
When Helping Becomes a Way to Hold On
I’ve spent a lot of my life being the helper. In my work. In my relationships. It’s been a core part of my identity, someone who shows up, helps, and supports.
But this year, life asked me to look more closely. To notice that sometimes, my helping came with an agenda: I wanted people to change. To grow. To do things differently, not always for them, but sometimes to ease my own discomfort.
In my coaching work, I saw the same thing reflected to me—the need to fix. To guide. To feel useful. I saw how closely that desire to help is tied to a need for control. Not in a domineering way, but in the very human wish to reduce uncertainty, mine included.
What I’m trying to practice is presence without pressure—supporting without shaping. Letting go of the subtle urge to steer someone toward who I think they should be.
Thich Nhat Hanh wrote:
“The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention.”
I’m trying to offer more of that, without rushing toward an outcome and just staying close, even when it’s hard. Because wisdom, I’m learning, isn’t about having answers. It’s about seeing clearly, without needing things to be different.
Stepping Away from Who I Thought I Had to Be
This past year slowly unraveled my perception of my identity. Roles such as leader, coach, and provider had long shaped how I understood myself.
Those roles aren’t wrong, but I started to see how much I’d clung to them to feel solid. To know who I was.
What happens when those roles fall away?
You start to feel what’s underneath. A little less certain, but more honest.
There was a time when ambition structured my days. Setting goals and chasing outcomes gave me a sense of direction. I still want to contribute, to be of service, but not in ways that keep me proving something.
Alan Watts wrote:
“Ambition is largely the ego’s attempt to establish itself… once you see this, ambition loses its grip.”
That letting go of the grip is what I’ve been struggling with, but when I do, it helps me just be.
Nothing Feels Certain Anymore, and That’s the Point
Nothing held constant this year. Not my body. Not my routines. Not my sense of identity.
I used to think change came through sheer willpower. Now, I’m learning to meet it with attention.
Everything is a lot more fluid, not in a chaotic way, less certain, but more peaceful. Like I’ve finally stopped trying to hold things in place that were never mine to control.
As Alan Watts wrote:
“Wisdom is not about gaining more—but the stripping away of comforting illusions… the recognition of truth, even when truth undermines everything you have built your life upon.”
Once you start seeing through the roles and ambitions that held you up, something else begins to emerge: peace, not from getting what you want, but from not being at war with what is.
What I Want to Practice Now
So no resolutions, no declarations about who I’ll become—just a shift in how I want to live.
• Being of service, without needing to fix or prove.
• Being open-hearted, even when it feels risky.
• Letting go of the idea that I have to hold everything together.
• Being with people as they are, not as I think they should be.
• Giving my body the care and space it’s been asking for.
I want to live a little closer to my values, not the ones I talk about, but the ones that show up in how I move, how I speak, how I listen.
Questions That Feel More Honest Than Resolutions
I often ask clients to sit with questions they don’t have immediate answers to. This time of year tends to bring up a lot of noise about “clarity.” But in my experience, reflection comes first. Clarity follows slowly.
Here are a few of the questions I’m asking:
• What am I still holding onto that no longer feels true?
• Where in my life am I managing more than relating?
• What kind of presence do I want to offer, to myself, to others, to the moment I’m in?
I don’t know what 2026 will bring. I know it won’t be predictable.
But I want to meet it with less defensiveness and with more honesty. And the willingness to keep letting go, even when it feels uncomfortable.
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