$pent Millennial

Dear Reader,

Happy New Year.

I love this time of year — especially that quiet stretch between Christmas and New Year’s when inboxes are quiet, pants are soft, and the world feels a little less demanding and a little more cozy.

Each year, I try to protect this pause. It’s a time for sitting with the year that’s passed — the achievements, the challenges, the moments that stretched me, and the ones that steadied me — before diving headfirst into ambitions and goals for the year ahead.

As I reflected on 2025, I kept coming back to how layered it was. A year marked by uncertainty, disappointment, and a lot of frustration about the state of things — personally and collectively. And yet, it was also a year of growth. Of progress that didn’t always look or feel like progress while it was happening, but unmistakably was, once I stepped back.

Looking back now, I can see that so much of this year was a quiet — and sometimes not-so-quiet — calling back to myself.

For example, I made more trips to Chicago this year than I had in quite a while. On the surface, there were practical reasons for more frequent trips: more flexibility, a budget that allowed for intentional travel, fewer lingering pandemic constraints. But underneath all of that, there was a pull I didn’t fully recognize at the time. 

Each visit grounded me in something familiar — walking the city, sitting with old friends, moving through places that shaped who I became. Places where I first felt independent, rooted, and fully myself.

Somewhere along the way — as responsibilities piled up and the world grew heavier — parts of that self have gotten worn down. Not lost, exactly. Just dulled. A little more guarded. A little more tired.

I felt it before I understood it. Was it restlessness, nostalgia, burnout? A pull I couldn’t quite name — only follow.

I did my best not to think too hard about it — after all, who had the time? So the call kept coming, and I kept answering it — packing a bag and heading south. The running felt good. Familiar.

At times this year, those trips felt like escape. And maybe, in some ways, they were. But the truth is: I wasn’t running away from something as much as I was being called toward something. Toward myself. Back toward my favorite, most authentic & whole, version of me.

Travel and adventure do a lot for me– but it couldn’t do it all. So my reckoning didn’t come only through trips to the city. It took time, discomfort, and forms of growth that weren’t nearly as romantic. 

For as we settle into our day-to-day lives — into the people we’ve become — it often takes disruption to pull us out just enough to remind us who we are underneath it all.

Yet, in the end, what felt like a tumultuous year ended up being a gift. One that gently — and at times insistently — re-grounded me.

Not back to a pristine or untouched version of myself. She doesn’t live here anymore. 

But to something truer. A little wiser. A little more tender. Less jaded, more anchored.

As I step into this new year — setting intentions and imagining what’s ahead — I’m reminding myself not to lose that grounding in the pursuit of growth or accomplishment. To move forward with purpose and values intact. To trust the process. To enjoy the journey a bit more. To worry less about outcomes, and focus instead on presence, alignment, and care.

So here’s to a new year – a year of opportunity and alignment, growth and grounding, ambition and presence. 

Until next week — take care & be well,

Everett