New Year. New Rhythm. New You. Right?

What If the New Year Isn’t Asking You to Become Someone Else?

I love a new year. I really do. I love a new season just about as much as anything. There isn’t much better than a fresh start. A clean page. I get excited just thinking about it. I am absolutely someone who romanticizes beginnings- new planners, new candles, new intentions. All of it. And everywhere you look right now in the beginning of a new year, it’s the same phrase: New year. New you. I get it, sounds hopeful. Motivating. Like something we’re supposed to buy into. But here’s my maybe-hot take—what is so wrong with the old you? With the old me? Because when we say new you, it quietly suggests something was broken. Something needed fixing. Something wasn’t enough. And that’s tricky, because Scripture tells us something else entirely. When God created humanity, He didn’t call it a draft. He didn’t call it a work-in-progress that needed correcting. He called it good.

He didn’t call us Not finished. He didn’t call us flawless. But good. He called us good then. He calls us good now. Even here, evn now. He hasn’t changed His mind about us.

This year, I’m not interested in treating myself like a problem to solve. I have done that long enough. I still want growth. I still want healing. I still want to become healthier-physically, mentally, spiritually, and emotionally. A healthier version of who I already am? Yes. I’m all here for that. But not at the cost of believing I was ever a mistake. I wasn’t and neither are you. So, I’ve really been thinking a lot about a new me. A new you. And I truly don’t believe we need a new us. What if this year isn’t about reinventing ourselves, but about relating to ourselves differently? What if it’s less new you and more new rhythm? We do not have to become someone new to lean into a new rhythm. And I am really thankful for that. I am personally over done being apologetically me. It’s time to be authentic to who I alreafy am. Unapologetically me. It’s way easier for sure.

Because honestly, if I add one more thing to my life right now, we’re going to need to add a few more hours to the day. (Laughs.) I’m kidding. Kind of. This January, I’m choosing something gentler. Not because I’m weak,but because I’m paying attention. I want to move into this year soft and strong. Brave. Courageous. Steady. And sometimes still a little afraid. And I think that’s allowed.

The word I am carrying with me in 2026 is Contentment. Somewhere along the way, I realized this year isn’t asking me for more effort. It’s asking for a different pace. Not passive. Not checked out. Just honest.

A lot of us aren’t tired from doing nothing. We’re tired from doing too much-and doing it while braced. Always anticipating. Always preparing. Always staying one step ahead of what might come next.

Preparation isn’t bad. If you’re a prepper, kudos to you. I should probably work on that myself. But when preparation becomes something we carry instead of something we offer, it starts costing us. And our bodies are keeping the score. That’s not failure. That’s fatigue. This is where contentment keeps finding me lately—not as a personality trait or a goal to achieve, but as a posture. Contentment doesn’t rush me toward the next version of myself. It meets me where I already am.

And rhythm-real rhythm…isn’t about adding better habits. It’s about choosing a way of living that doesn’t ask me to abandon myself to keep up.

This year, I’m not trying to become someone new. I’m learning how to live more honestly as who I already am. And that is easier than it sounds for sure.

A Gentle Pause

Take a breath with me for a moment. Inhale gently through your nose and hold that breath counting to four. Exhale slowly through your mouth and hold that breath counting to six.

You don’t have to fix anything. You don’t have to rush. If your shoulders soften even a fraction, that’s enough. We don’t need perfection., just presence.

Gentle January

Gentleness is not weakness. Choosing a slower rhythm doesn’t mean we’re opting out of courage, it means choosing a courage that doesn’t have to shout. Gentle January isn’t about doing less for the sake of doing less. It’s about noticing what actually sustains you. Which rhythms help your body exhale? Which ones quietly drain you? Those are holy questions. They don’t need rushed answers.

So maybe this year, we can opt out of reinvention. Maybe this year, it’s about attention. About paying attention. Attention to your body. Attention to your limits. Attention to the life already in your hands. Because, You’re not behind. You’re becoming.

And as January begins to turn the corner, I want to name something important for us, gentleness doesn’t end when the calendar changes. It’s easy to be soft when the month gives us permission. It’s harder when life speeds back up. When routines tighten. When expectations creep back in quietly. So this week isn’t about keeping Gentle January perfectly. It’s about learning how to return. Because real rhythms aren’t fragile. They don’t break the first time you miss a day. They don’t require guilt to stay alive. Gentleness that lasts is built on grace.

You’re allowed to:

•miss a morning and begin again in the afternoon

•fall out of rhythm and return without explanation

•notice what no longer fits and adjust

•choose care again, even if you forgot yesterday

There is no scorecard here. No starting over. Only continuing—softly. As you step toward February, I want to offer you this question, not as pressure, but as permission: What is one gentle anchor I want to keep?Not ten things.Not a full plan. Just one. Something small enough to carry. Something steady enough to return to.

It might be:

•a slower exhale before bed

•dimming the lights earlier in the evening

•a weekly walk without headphones

•one honest prayer you come back to

Gentleness isn’t lost when life gets loud. It’s practiced when you come back anyway. So if January gave you anything, I hope it gave you this: the confidence to live without bracing.the courage to listen to your body. the trust to move at a pace that still bears fruit.

You’re not behind.

You haven’t failed.

You’re learning how to live held.

And that work doesn’t end here.

With this said, I created a Gently January Rhythm Gude for you, for me, for us- to help us live intentionally where our feet are planted.

A Gentle Beginning because, January often arrives with noise. New plans. New expectations. New pressure to be ready before we’ve even had time to listen. Even when we love fresh starts, there’s a subtle urgency that creeps in—asking us to optimize, organize, and perform our way into a new year. But as this year began, I noticed something different in myself—and in so many of the conversations I was having with women in this space. We weren’t resistant to growth. We were tired. Not from a lack of faith or desire—but from carrying more than we were meant to hold, and ending our days braced instead of at rest.

So instead of starting the year by asking What should I do?

I asked a quieter question: How do I want to live inside my days? That question became the foundation for what I’m calling Gentle January, a slower, steadier beginning rooted in presence, honesty, and grace rather than pressure or performance. Before we go any further, I want to share why this matters to me and why I created the Gentle January Rhythm Guide and Sleep Routine in the first place.

Why I Created the Gentle January Rhythm Guide

I didn’t create the Gentle January Rhythm Guide because I had a perfect plan for the year. I created it because I could feel the pressure creeping in before January even began. The quiet expectation to optimize. To hurry into clarity. To carry a sense of readiness before anything had actually been asked of us. And I knew, if I was feeling that tension in my body, many of you were too. So instead of creating another set of goals or resolutions, I chose to create something that would help us close our days without urgency and open our year without force.

The Gentle January Rhythm Guide isn’t about fixing your life or perfecting your habits. It’s about choosing presence over performance. About giving your nervous system permission to exhale and your faith room to feel human again. t’s a companion for real life, for the nights that go quiet and the ones that unravel, for consistency when it’s available, and grace when it’s not. If your body has been asking for a gentler landing and your soul has been craving steadier rhythms, both the Gentle January Rhythm Guide and the Sleep Routine are available now, offered as companions, not expectations.

Take what helps. Leave what doesn’t. Return when you’re ready.

January doesn’t ask us to optimize or overhaul. It invites us to listen. To notice where our bodies are tight, where our souls are tired, and where God is already meeting us without urgency or demand. Gentle January is a return to what steadies us to rhythms that don’t require proving or pushing, but allow us to move through our days with integrity, presence, and care. There’s nothing to conquer here. Only something to tend. And tending, done faithfully, is never wasted.
Not perfection-just presence, returned to again and again.

With hope + Wild expectancy,

Brandy.