It’s Friday, December 30, 2016. I just walked 4 miles from my house to Cheshire Coffee. I’m sitting alone with a cup of green tea with honey and lemon. I’ve never been more content in my life.
I did a lot of thinking on the way up here and wanted to capture it. I don’t know if I’ll finish this or even blog it. For now, I’m just writing from my heart.
2016 was the best year of my life (so far).
I keep seeing posts about how terrible this year was and how people can’t wait for it to end. I don’t relate to that anymore. I might have in the past—but I’m a different person now.
A few weeks ago, Daren and I were driving up to Portland to see Thomas at college. We got caught in traffic, rerouted through a chaotic neighborhood—construction noise, bright sun in our eyes, the dog restless in the backseat, music playing, Siri interrupting with directions.
We were still trying to talk through it all when I suddenly realized—I couldn’t anymore.
I felt anxious. Overstimulated. Instead of pushing through or getting irritated like I would have before, I simply said we should pause the conversation and pick it up later. I turned off the music. We drove in silence.
And I thought about how new that was for me.
A few years ago, I wouldn’t have recognized what was happening in my body. I would have just felt irritated and probably complained. This time, I noticed it—and adjusted.
That shift felt big.
Later, Daren asked what I was thinking about. I told him I was reflecting on how different I am from a year ago.
He said something that stuck with me—he hadn’t really noticed a difference.
And he’s probably right.
These changes are subtle. Internal. The kind you don’t see day to day—like a child growing. You only notice when you look back.
So how do I explain it?
I’m becoming a “less is more” person.
Before speaking, I now run things through a filter:
Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?
I suddenly have a lot less to say—and I listen more.
Yoga taught me that. Sitting in circles, listening to others without responding. At first, it felt unnatural. But I started to carry that into my life.
I listen more deeply now—to people, to my body, to the world around me.
I’ve become more aware of my body, especially through anxiety. I didn’t even realize how much of it I carried all the time. Medication helped quiet the noise enough for me to actually hear what was going on inside.
With that awareness came acceptance. Of myself. Of my experiences. Of where I am.
I’ve learned what affects me—what fuels me and what drains me. Running long distances, too much coffee, certain foods. Things I never would have noticed before.
I have a better sense now of when to push and when to let go. I used to fight everything. Now I understand balance a little more. Not everything is worth the energy.
I move slower. When I catch myself rushing, I stop and ask why. There’s usually no good reason.
I became especially aware of this after knee surgery, when I had no choice but to slow down. It felt uncomfortable at first—like I was wasting time. But I realized… I wasn’t.
I was just present.
Yoga taught me how to breathe. Really breathe. The kind of breathing that changes how your body feels. I started practicing different techniques and using breath to move through my day more intentionally.
That awareness extended to my thoughts.
“Don’t water the weeds.”
I catch myself now when I’m feeding thoughts that don’t serve me. I used to beat myself up over it. Now I just begin again.
And I begin again more quickly.
The background noise in my mind has changed too. It used to be random songs or looping conversations. Now I’m more intentional about what I take in—music, messages, thoughts. I use mantra. I redirect.
I’ve even become more aware of what I consume physically—food, products, everything. I’ve simplified. Less makeup, less fuss. More natural. More ease.
I feel more like myself than I ever have.
And interestingly, I’ve become more aware of others too.
Not long ago, I saw a woman at work crying. I barely knew her, but I walked over and hugged her. I didn’t overthink it. I didn’t hold back. I just showed up.
I didn’t used to do things like that.
I tell people I love them more. I listen more. I’m present more often.
And I’ve learned to enjoy my own company.
That might be one of the biggest shifts.
I used to hate being alone. Now I need it. I value it. It’s where I hear myself.
Daren was right—these changes aren’t obvious from the outside.
But inside, everything feels different.
The world constantly tells us who we should be. It’s hard to know who you are underneath all of that.
Yoga didn’t change me overnight. It worked quietly, over time. Along with other experiences that led me there.
I feel incredibly lucky to have had the space to explore this part of myself. Not everyone does.
I’m far from perfect. I still fall off my path.
But I get back on.
And I fall less often now.
2016 was the year that shifted everything for me.
I only hope to keep going—and maybe help others find their own path along the way.
If you’re still reading—thank you. Truly.
Peace. 2016—out.
Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!
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