I originally planned to publish this blog post in the final days of 2025 or the first days of 2026, but maybe the end of February makes more sense. The statistics tell us that most people have abandoned their goals for the new year halfway through January, so maybe it makes more sense to publish after most people have given up anyway and need the encouragement to get back on the wagon.
When I started reflecting on 2025 and what had been accomplished last year, it felt like nothing had happened. In so many ways, it seemed like the year was ending exactly as it started. From finances, to friendship, to romance very little seemed to have changed in my favor at first glance.
But the more I thought about it, I realized that while my life hadn’t been transformed, I had. Or at least I was beginning to.
I’m going to share some of the adjustments I made last year not because I think the details are particularly compelling, but to encourage others that might feel stuck or unsatisfied with their life trajectory.
The most obvious and consequential change I made was when I stopped drinking for six months.
As someone that was riddled with social anxiety for most of my adult life, who often used alcohol as a crutch in uncomfortable situations, it didn’t come naturally to me at all. But I realized in the process that where I was relying on liquid courage, I should have been relying on God.
When we use alcohol not as something to celebrate in moderation, but a remedy for our insecurities, pain or disappointments, we replace the loving embrace of an almighty God with a volatile and unpredictable substance capable of destroying us and everything we love.
Real confidence, real peace and real contentment come from God. It’s slower to build, but it ’s much more durable.
I’ll admit that since I resumed drinking, there have been occasions where I exceeded my limit. But I never expected perfection for myself in this area of my life because I don’t think I’ve been perfect in any area of my life. Every time I thought I’d overcome a sin, I’d eventually end up humbled by my flesh. That’s not to say that I don’t take obedience seriously; but that improvement takes time and even after we mature, it’s fragile. But if I genuinely feel like I’m incapable of moderation, I’m willing to give it up for good.
I also gave up gummies last year. I know everyone interacts with them differently, but the effect on me they had was too strong and unpredictable to feel like I could keep partaking as a Christian.
I read my Bible more last year than every other year of my adult life combined. Sometimes it felt like homework, and like my brain was atrophying as I tried to understand what was happening. And sometimes, it felt like God was speaking directly to me, making Himself known and heard at a volume and intensity I’d never experienced.
There are studies that show reading your Bible at least four times per week leads to major positive psychological shifts, and while it feels impossible to pinpoint where I suddenly felt the impact, I know that it’s true.
There have been phases where for one reason or another, I go anywhere from days to weeks without reading the Word consistently. Maybe I’m traveling and can’t get in a rhythm, maybe I’m just being lazy. But without fail, the longer I go without studying the Gospel and what preceded it, the more chaos and despair I feel. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to explain it, but I know what I’ve experienced.
And the more time I spent in scripture, the more I was forced to wrestle with it.
Certain verses would throw me into existential crisis for weeks on end.
I wondered if Romans 14 meant I was supposed to live in constant anxiety about what could potentially offend another believer. I wondered if Paul’s warnings about modesty meant I had to dress like a pilgrim for the rest of my life to truly serve God. I wondered if Hebrews 6 meant that if I had ever sinned after being baptized that I was doomed to hell.
I’d revisit scriptures day after day, pray, research, ask a Catholic friend in Virginia, a Protestant friend in South Carolina, my parents, my Sunday Bible class leader, ChatGPT but still be spiraling, often wondering if the least charitable possible interpretation was what God actually meant.
But the more I went through that cycle, the more peace I felt, knowing almost intuitively that even if something didn’t make sense right away, or that if it seemed like God was commanding something seemingly impossible, He wouldn’t abandon me and He wasn’t trying to trick me. God isn’t a smug public school teacher with a vendetta against us; He’s our Father and He wants us with Him.
The Bible is inherently confusing because as human beings, His ways are higher than ours. An eternity to us is a second to Him and what we can’t fathom, He can manufacture without flinching. I think when we find ourselves unsure of what God is saying, we’ll eventually find an answer if we run towards Him.
I never pictured myself as the kind of Christian that would feel a conviction listening to Gucci Mane or Kim Petras, but lo and behold, I eventually did. There’s an episode of South Park where everything starts sounding and looking like diarrhea to Stan, and that’s what I was beginning to feel like. As a result, I drastically cut back on degenerate media. I was watching less trash tv, listening to less trash music, and it led me to exploring genres of Christian media I didn’t even know existed. But the progress definitely hasn’t been linear; I’ve rewatched Real Housewives even though I know it’s slop and started watching Suddenly Amish even though it literally insults the viewer’s intelligence with a ridiculous premise.
One of the greatest points of contention as a Christian for me has always been the command to modesty. Modesty isn’t my instinct, and it’s hard to explain, but it didn’t feel right to put on a show before my heart had actually changed. I wasn’t going to start wearing Little House on the Prairie dresses or burn my bodycons because I wanted approval from other Christians. But when I finally reached a point where the Holy Spirit broke through, I listened and started the process of transforming my wardrobe.
I don’t feel convicted to wear burlap sacks and birkenstocks, but I have felt convicted to cover up more than I ever have in my adult life, and for that reason, I’ve given away and given up clothes that I think are beautiful because what God demands of me is more important than my aesthetic inclinations.
And what’s funny to me is that every time I try on something I think is cute, but a little out of my comfort zone and more reserved than I’d go for if faith were not a factor, and have ignored the temptation to change into something more provocative, I’ve ended up getting the most overwhelming admiration from strangers.
I also sought out a Christian community outside of church for the first time in my life. I started the year attending weekly women’s Bible studies on the beach, and eventually started frequenting a faith based work out group.
I went to these alone, not knowing anyone and not knowing what to expect. It wasn’t always easy and eventually, life got in the way. But I can’t overstate the benefits of finding more opportunities to connect with other Christians that take their faith seriously.
I don’t know if you’ve ever looked around a party and questioned why you were there. When it happened to me, it’s not like I had contempt for the people around me or even felt out of place for that matter. But I knew on some level I had gone for the sake of going rather than genuinely enjoying the company. Almost every time I left one of these Christian events, though, I felt uplifted, and edified and like I was stewarding my time and energy as opposed to wasting it.
I was also inspired to start several Christian events. I hosted three last year, but between sparse attendance, holiday travel and security concerns I let them fizzle out. I do think they serve an existing need though, so I’m going to try again this year for six months straight.
For one month last year, I used a dating app aggressively. I’m an easily annoyed person with a short attention span, and I think that’s part of why dating apps have never been my strong suit. I don’t even enjoy texting my friends about the mundanities of our days – never mind some guy I don’t know. But for a month, I forced myself to use the app daily and respond to every match, continuing conversations no matter what kind of mood I was in. It probably doesn’t sound like much, but it was a major test of discipline and willpower for me. I felt like I had put in an earnest effort, and got a better understanding of exactly what it is that I want. I’m trying my best to surrender my entire life to God, not in lip service but in daily, determined sacrifice. And as tempting as it was to take handsome and rich when so many women ended up with neither, I couldn’t build my life with someone that risked standing between me and my Father.
Of the first dates I went on, I only felt real intrigue for 20% of them, which gave me insight into the needle in the haystack I’m looking for. I’m a strange, specific woman and if God’s plan for my life includes marriage, I’m convinced it’s to a strange, specific man.
I also challenged myself to start conversations in real life with men I find attractive, because between severe RBF, my general shyness and unease in many social situations, I realized that when a cute guy did talk to me out in the wild, I had a habit of short-circuiting. If I felt any real attraction to someone I would get nervous and probably cut the conversation short. It wasn’t about hoping some guy I asked about a menu or if he was British (long story) was the love of my life, but getting myself comfortable and developing the muscle to hold conversations with men I actually *wanted* to talk to.
In addition to that, I’ve also tried to be more conversational in general. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a chronic over-thinker, and as a result, talking to people I don’t know has never been my forte. But I’ve pushed myself to share the compliments I think about people, to make small talk with cashiers, and to smile at strangers.
I think this only took me a solid two months of intentional effort before I started seeing it pay off, found myself much more confident in my disposition and noticed the quality and frequency of men approaching me in real life skyrocketing.
I always struggled with task management, and started implementing daily to-do lists in my notes app that massively increased my productivity. I don’t know what it was about this that made it work for me; I’ve abandoned every other digital or physical organizer I’ve ever used. But this changed the game for me and helped me accomplish a lot more each day.
I’ve also struggled with routines for most of my life, and never got into the habit of Sunday resets or setting certain chores for certain days. Last year I started setting aside 1-2 hours to clean and do chores around the house a few days a week and it became much more manageable for me.
Last but not least, I forced myself to write more, and had the most consistent output on my blog since 2020, when I was still living in the greater DC area and forced to spend the majority of my year locked inside of my apartment. And I have to say, the more time I make for what I believe God put me here to do, the more inspired, fulfilled and closer to Him I feel.
If I were to evaluate the year in hard metrics, I’d feel like I accomplished nothing. But when I look at how much has changed, and grow in my understanding of how God works, I realize changes that seem small or insignificant on the surface have a habit of compounding over time, and having a much greater impact down the line than we ever immediately recognize.
If you found yourself frustrated going into 2026, feeling like you didn’t do enough or evolve enough the year prior, I’d encourage you to start making adjustments that challenge you, prune you and have the power to transform you even if it takes more time than you hoped.
what do you think?