Hey 2026! Y2K Called and Asked For The Panic Back

On New Year’s Eve, 1999, I was playing Murder in the Dark with a bunch of Brits in a mountain cabin in the Smoky Mountains, in Tennessee. We figured that if we were close enough to the birth place of the Queen of Country, Dollywood, nothing bad could happen. We were right. Nothing bad happened - well not terrible things, just ..life. After a week of sipping whiskey, visiting Dolly Parton’s recreated childhood cabin and welcoming the millenium with cheers, two of the couples from that night are now divorced, probably for the better.

And the next thing I know, snap, it’s a quarter century later, we’re rolling into 2026 and I’m tucked up in bed by 10:30, thrilled that the rest of the world has rung in the New Year and I don’t have to pretend anymore that it’s a big deal.

And I’m starting to think we’ve been approaching New Year’s resolutions all wrong.

Sure, I made my resolutions. Write more. Walk more. Lift weights more. Rest more. Blah blah blah.

Resolutions are hard for most of us common folk.

Ever heard of Quitter’s Day? The second Friday of January is the day you’re most likely to give up on all those shiny resolutions you set just weeks earlier. Kudos to the marketing team at Strava for naming it. While it’s been hard to verify the exact origin, it seems likely someone on their marketing team spotted a real data pattern around early 2018 and turned it into a clever hook to promote their platform.

Instead of abandoning resolutions altogether, I’ve been thinking about reframing them—turning them into something a little more human, a little less punishing. Less new year, new you and more what actually matters now?

A Letter From Your Future Self

It’s mid-January, and you’re 90 years old (or 100, if you’re already there). What message does future-you have for the person standing here right now?

The first time I did this exercise—led by musician Peter Katz—I cried. My future self wasn’t disappointed. She was proud. She urged me to be proud too.

The Champagne Moment

What’s the one thing, in the next year, that would give you a true sense of accomplishment? Not something Instagram-worthy—just something meaningful enough that you’d pop a bottle of champagne and actually celebrate.

This question can feel intimidating, like it has to be something enormous. But take it down a notch. Ask yourself instead: how will I feel a year from now if I don’t even try?

Sometimes even asking that question is motivation enough.

The Clean Slate

The New Year loves a “fresh start.” If you could leave one habit, belief, or story about yourself behind, what would it be—and what would you replace it with?

I ditched self-deprecation a few years ago and never looked back. I used to say, “I’m not an athlete,” despite running three half-marathons in one year and riding my bike 100 miles in a day last year.

Dammit. I am an athlete.

The stories we tell ourselves matter. I’m committing to telling a good story.

Three Words for the Year

Some people choose a word—or three—to guide their year. This idea came from a conversation I had with the EPIC Community and Stu Saunders. I promptly forgot my own three words (something to do with clarity and community), but one response stuck with me: Commit to Action.

That felt attainable. Commit to the walking. Commit to the weights. Commit to the writing. Not perfection—just action.

Small Changes, Big Impacts

New Year changes don’t have to be dramatic. What’s one small shift you could make that might have an outsized impact?

Maybe it’s parking a little farther away to get more steps in. Maybe it’s starting the day with a glass of water. This idea comes straight out of Atomic Habits by James Clear: small, consistent changes—just one percent better—add up faster than we think.

Let me know in the comments if any of this resonates. Resolutions can feel lonely. Naming the things we want—especially the ones we quietly hold ourselves back from—makes them feel a little less daunting.

Happy New Year.
May you have a Salty, reflective, fully human 2026, Divas.