This Year, I’m Shedding

For as long as I can remember, my life has been about accumulation.

Accumulating achievements.
Accumulating pay increases, promotions, credentials, milestones, material comforts.

Each year felt like a checklist: What did I add? What did I earn? What did I secure?
And to be clear, none of that was wrong. It built stability. It built confidence. It built a version of me that could stand firmly in the world.

But this year, something shifted.

Instead of asking what more can I get, I’ve been sitting with a different question:
What am I ready to let go of?

This year, my focus is shedding.

I’m shedding identities that no longer define me - the expectation to constantly perform, the need to always be “on track,” the reflex to fill every empty moment with output, and the belief that productivity is the same thing as self-worth. I’m letting go of these inherited narratives and coming back to my core.

I’m realizing that liberating yourself from the expectations of others is the only path to our highest self.

Physically, this looks like detoxing - simplifying what I consume, how I move, how I rest. Paying closer attention to what actually nourishes my body versus what I’ve normalized out of routine.

Spiritually, it goes deeper.

Since beginning my 200-hour yoga teacher training, I’ve been exposed to a different way of understanding life. One that’s less about constant striving and more about awareness, presence, and alignment. A way of living that asks not how much can I hold, but what is essential.

Yoga, at its core, isn’t about achieving perfect postures. It’s about clearing - clearing distractions, clearing resistance, clearing the noise that keeps us disconnected from ourselves. Each practice leads us home, connecting our mind, body, and spirit. Each breath reveals what we’ve been gripping too tightly.

And I’m realizing how much I’ve been holding.

Holding onto pressure.
Holding onto urgency.
Holding onto versions of success defined by accumulation alone.

This season of shedding doesn’t feel like loss. It feels like space.

Space to move more intentionally.
Space to listen more closely.
Space to build a life that isn’t just impressive on paper, but deeply connected.

I don’t have all the answers yet, and I don’t think I’m supposed to. This year isn’t about arriving somewhere new. It’s about making room for what’s already been trying to surface.

More reflections on yoga teacher training soon. For now, I’m letting this be enough:
A quieter beginning.
A lighter load.
A year not of more, but of less, with meaning.