For a long time, I chose words like focus, discipline, momentum, growth.
Good words. Strong words. Productive words.

But if I’m being honest, they often carried an invisible message underneath:
Do more. Be better. Try harder.

And while those words helped me move forward, they didn’t always help me feel steady.

This year, as I sat with what I truly want 2026 to feel like, I realized something simple and powerful:
I don’t need another word that pushes me.
I need a word that grounds me.

So my word for 2026 is Anchor.

Not because I’m slowing down in a way that shrinks me, but because I’m choosing to move from steadiness instead of urgency.

Why “Anchor” Feels Like a Radical Choice

We live in a world that celebrates motion — fast motion, visible motion, constant motion.
The more you do, the more you carry, the more you juggle, the more valuable you must be… right?

Except that’s not actually how it feels on the inside.

On the inside, so many of us are tired.
Not just physically tired — but tired of deciding everything, remembering everything, holding everything together.
Tired of being the emotional engine for everyone else’s lives.

I know this feeling well.
For years, I thought being capable meant being constantly available.
Being strong meant being endlessly flexible.
Being successful meant staying in motion — even when my body and heart were quietly asking me to slow down.

Choosing Anchor feels like choosing a different kind of strength.

The kind that says:
I don’t have to rush to matter.
I don’t have to carry everything to be worthy.
I don’t have to prove my value through exhaustion.

An anchor doesn’t stop movement...it simply creates stability within movement.

And that feels like exactly the energy I want to bring into 2026.

What It Means to Live Anchored

Living anchored isn't about doing less just for the sake of doing less. It means doing what matters — without losing yourself in the process.

For me, living anchored looks like:

• Pausing before I say yes.

• Choosing alignment over speed.

• Letting “enough” actually be enough.

• Trusting my body when it asks for rest.

• Trusting my intuition when it says, this doesn’t belong to you anymore.

It looks like remembering that I don’t need to earn rest.
I don’t need to justify joy.
I don’t need to hustle my way into peace.

I get to choose presence now. Not someday, not when everything is done.

The Companion Word I Didn’t Know I Needed

As I sat with Anchor, another word kept rising alongside it: Spaciousness.

If Anchor is the root, Spaciousness is the breath.

Spaciousness means:

• White space in my calendar.

• Emotional margin in my days.

• Fewer "shoulds."

• Softer expectations.

• Room to be human, not just efficient.

For so long, my life felt packed wall to wall with responsibilities, obligations, and invisible pressure.
Spaciousness feels like reclaiming the right to breathe again.

Together, Anchor + Spaciousness feel like a promise to myself:
I will build a life that feels steady on the inside, and that means so much more than looking impressive on the outside.

My Daily Anchor Practice

Because words matter most when they become lived experience, not just intention, I created a simple daily practice for myself.

Every morning, before I open my phone or step into the day, I come back to this:

“I am anchored. I move with intention, not urgency.”

Sometimes I place a hand on my heart when I say it.
Sometimes I whisper it in the kitchen while the coffee brews.
Sometimes I repeat it silently before responding to an email or a request.

It’s not dramatic.
It’s not time-consuming.
But it changes the tone of my day.

It reminds me:
I don’t have to meet life at its loudest volume.
I get to meet it from my center.

The Power of Choosing a Word (Instead of a Resolution)

I’ve never loved resolutions.
They often feel like contracts we sign with a future version of ourselves — and then spend the year feeling guilty when we don’t live up to them.

A word feels different.

Rather than demanding perfection, a word invites direction.

Your word becomes a filter:

• Does this choice bring me closer to how I want to feel this year?

• Does this commitment align with the life I’m building...or the life I’m trying to escape?

That’s why I love this practice so much, especially for women who already carry so much.

Your word doesn't add to your plate, another thing to manage.
It’s a way to come home to yourself again and again.

And Now, I Want to Turn This to You

If I were sitting across from you right now, I’d ask you this gently — not as homework, not as pressure, just as an invitation:

What do you want 2026 to feel like?

Forget about what you want to accomplish.
Or what you want to fix.
How do you want to live inside your life next year?

Do you want more:

• Calm?

• Confidence?

• Ease?

• Courage?

• Freedom?

• Spaciousness?

• Trust?

• Joy?

• Boundaries?

• Rest?

If you were to choose one word to guide you through 2026, what might it be?

And if that feels hard to answer, try these questions instead:

• What am I tired of carrying?

• What am I ready to release?

• What do I want more of...not someday, but now?

• How do I want to feel when I look back on this year?

There is no right word.
Only the word that feels like truth for you.

A Gentle Invitation

If you’re willing, take a moment after reading this to write your word down.
Put it somewhere you’ll see it.
Let it become a quiet companion.

And if you feel called, I’d love to hear it.

What word are you choosing for 2026?
What do you want this next year to stand for in your life?

Because maybe the most powerful way to begin a new year isn’t by pushing harder...but by choosing to live more deeply rooted in what matters most.