How This Year Really Started

January 29th — January arrived in a blur. I did what needed to be done, even when I didn't yet have the words for how heavy it all felt.

When the Year Begins in Waiting Rooms 

January often arrives with loud expectations. Fresh starts. Clear intentions. Big energy.

This year didn't.

And I want to be honest about that — without turning it into a story that needs fixing.

Just before the New Year, my dog was diagnosed with a hernia that required immediate surgery. He was operated on New Year's Eve and spent the following nights under observation at the animal hospital. While the world was celebrating and setting resolutions, my year began in waiting rooms, quiet worry, and learning how to be fully present in uncertainty. 

The weeks that followed were all about care.

Strict rules. No running. No jumping. No excitement. Which, if you happen to live with a high-energy dog, you know… is not exactly easy.

A Month That Forced Me to Slow Down 

January became a month of slowing down whether I wanted to or not. Of adjusting expectations. Of choosing patience over productivity. Of realizing how much energy goes into loving and protecting someone who depends entirely on you.

The good news — and I say this with so much gratitude — is that we're finally on the other side. Healing is progressing, restrictions are slowly lifting, and life is gently finding its rhythm again.

Only now, as things begin to settle, do I feel like there's space in my own mind again. Space for hopes. For intentions. For quiet plans that don't demand urgency.

Gentle Intentions for the Year Ahead 

A couple of weeks ago, I shared my intentions for the year in my Instagram stories. I want to share them here too — not as a checklist, but as gentle directions.

And maybe this is important to say out loud: This year, I'm not asking life for anything extraordinary. I'm not chasing growth at all costs or trying to turn myself into a "better version" overnight. All I'm really asking for is a normal, steady, peaceful life.

Time to calm my nervous system in yoga.
Time to sit down for afternoon tea without rushing.
Time to let creativity return on its own terms, without pressure.

This is what I'm moving toward: 

• Celebrate New Year's (because why not?)

• Start yoga

• A spa day with my sisters

• Back to the gym

• Worry less, trust more 😅

• Growth for Selflavie — without pressure

• Spend more time with loved ones

• Leave space between things

• Buy less, choose better

• Continue therapy

• Get through the semester

• Take myself on dates more often

Nothing revolutionary. Nothing performative.

Just a life that feels a little softer.
A little more intentional.
A little more mine.

A Quiet Kind of Light

And maybe this is worth mentioning too.

This January, in the middle of everything, I saw the northern lights for the very first time — right from my own front yard.

No planning.
No chasing forecasts.
No expectations.

Just stepping outside, looking up, and realizing that something rare and beautiful was happening above me — quietly, without asking anything in return.

Not that everything suddenly became easier. Not that the worry disappeared.

But that even in the months that feel heavy, life still finds ways to offer small moments of wonder. Gentle pauses. Soft proof that light doesn't only belong to perfect beginnings.

Sometimes it shows up exactly where you are. And maybe that's enough for now.

If your year didn't start the way you imagined either, I hope this reminds you of something important: beginnings don't have to be loud to be meaningful. Some of the most important shifts happen quietly — in waiting, in caring, in simply getting through.

There's still time.
There always is.

If you'd like to follow these moments as they unfold — the quiet days, gentle reminders, and small pieces of light — you can find me on Instagram at @selflavie. ✨ You're always welcome there.

Soft hugs,
Selflavie