This hit home for me, so I tested it out with something small but persistent: taking out the trash.

Normally, if I was the one dragging the garbage to the curb, I’d feel annoyed—Why am I the only one who does this? Why hasn’t anyone else taken care of it?

But this time, I stopped myself and shifted my perspective. Instead of frustration, I reframed it as:

I am of use to my household by doing this task.

And honestly? It made a difference. It didn’t make taking out the trash fun, but it stripped away the resentment. I wasn’t carrying extra frustration over what other people weren’t doing. I just did what I needed to do and moved on.

It’s a small shift, but it changes everything.

I came into this year with a completely different perspective than what I have today. I thought this would be the year of transcendence, pushing beyond limitations, over-coming all obstacles, excelling, soaring into something new. Instead, I’ve realized that before I can transcend, I have to align. Align with myself, my goals, and the life I actually want—not just the one I’ve been maintaining out of habit.

And let me tell you, alignment is sneaky. It doesn’t always arrive as an aha moment wrapped in clarity. Sometimes, it’s a slow unraveling of what no longer fits. A job that no longer sparks anything. A routine that once felt comforting but now feels restrictive. Even foods I once enjoyed no longer agree with me. It’s as if my body, my mind, and my entire being are whispering, It’s time to shift.

Fantasy and creativity have never been my strong suit. Give me a problem to solve, and I’ll dive in headfirst. But even problem-solving has its limits - just ask math. I’ve never been great at math, yet somehow I’ve spent 5 years as a computer programmer (math), followed by nearly 30 years in mortgage underwriting (oh look, MORE math). I thrived in my logic-based world just fine. Then I met my partner. He’s a graphic artist, and even after 20+ years together, his creativity still astounds me. Somehow, he passed that gift on to our daughter, who can draw beautifully, and my two adopted daughters, who are just as talented. For years, every time I needed a piece of art, I went straight to my in-house art king or, more recently, AI tools. I stayed in my logical lane, watching the artists in my life with admiration from afar. Repeatedly saying : “I’m just not creative”.

Cue the internal debate. On one hand, I loved that I could zip up the mediums, even if they were holding on for dear life. On the other hand, the size large felt… comfortable. A little less pinchy, a little less precarious. They fit me. But oh, the sting of choosing comfort over fantasy.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at myself in the dressing room mirror, pondering the age-old question: “Do I want to be able to breathe when I sit down?”