As the year wraps itself up in glittery resolutions and we prepare for the inevitable influx of “new year, new me” nonsense, I’ve been doing my own annual sit-down with reality. No candles, no ritual baths, no curated moon-water manifestation nonsense, I mean the real reflection. The kind that feels like sorting through a messy closet full of versions of yourself you’re not sure you ever want to wear again.

This year taught me a lot, but one thing keeps echoing louder than the rest:
I don’t want to go back to anything I had to survive.

Every year, we tell ourselves we’re stepping into a new chapter. And then, like clockwork, something familiar, comfortable, or downright toxic knocks on the door with that “hey stranger” energy. Old habits. Old relationships. Old fears. Old versions of ourselves that once fit like a glove but now feel like a straightjacket.

So here’s the hope I’m holding for myself, and for anyone reading this:

I hope you walk past every familiar loop trying to pull you back in. I hope you choose the path that keeps you free. I hope you reach for freedom over familiarity every single fucking time.

Because cycles aren’t just behaviors, they’re gravitational pulls. They’re the emotional muscle memory of who we used to be. And they come disguised as second chances, nostalgia, “unfinished business,” and “maybe they’ve changed.” But 99% of the time? It’s just life testing whether you’re still soft enough to fold or strong enough to walk forward.

This year made me confront the parts of myself that still believed I had to earn the things that were already mine. I realized how many cycles I stayed in out of guilt, comfort, or the fear of disappointing someone who wouldn’t hesitate to disappoint me. I realized how many versions of myself I outgrew quietly while still pretending they fit.

So next year? I’m choosing the future. Not the rerun.

I want the version of me that’s not scared to expand. The one that doesn’t apologize for boundaries. The one that doesn’t shrink to keep others comfortable. The one who’s not auditioning for roles in stories she already outgrew.

And for you — yes, the you reading this, I hope you step into the next year with your spine straight and your intuition loud. I hope you recognize when the universe sends you a recycled situation just to see if you’ve learned your lesson, or more importantly, lesson. I hope you choose the door forward every time.

Get free. Stay free.

That’s the assignment. That’s the vibe. That’s the only resolution worth making.