The Year Was Fine. Was It?

Would you want next year be like this year was?

In a few weeks, your inbox will fill up with goals and year-end to-do lists.

New year, new you. Word of the year. Vision boards. Ten steps to make 2027 your best year yet.

But before you write another list or two, pause for a moment. How was this year, really?

Not on paper. On paper, I know it was fine. You delivered. People relied on you. You handled what needed handling, and everyone thinks you're doing so well.

But are you? Really?...

Why do high achievers skip the honest year-end review?

Most of us don't skip the year-end review. We review what we achieved. Projects shipped, targets hit, problems solved. KPIs and OKRs, growth, revenue, speed... the list is endless. All looking good on paper, right?

What we skip is the other question. What did the year take?

When you're a high achiever, that question can feel like betrayal. We're told to be grateful. And now the version of you who said "I'm fine" so many times this year is the one asking... so it feels scary.

So instead of facing it, we jump straight to next year's goals. Because that feels easy and familiar. We set higher numbers. We aim for even better results.

Three questions for the end of the year

Here's a small practice. It takes about twenty minutes. You need a pen, paper, and a place where nobody will interrupt you.

Write by hand if you can. Don't edit. Don't fix anything. Just notice what comes up.

1. What did this year cost me?

Not what you achieved. What did it cost?

Sleep. Evenings with family. Weekends, and your children's sport events. Friendships. The walk you stopped taking. The book you stopped reading. The part of you that used to be curious, playful, and rested.

Write the list. Let it be longer than you expected. That's ok.

And when you feel it's done, ask yourself: "What else?" Keep asking, until there's really nothing else left.

2. What am I pretending not to know?

This one usually takes a minute.

Maybe the work doesn't mean what it used to. Maybe the tiredness isn't about workload. Maybe it's the heaviness that shows up every Sunday evening.

You don't have to act on it. Just notice it, and write it down.

3. How long have I known?

Be gentle here.

Most people I work with have known for a while. Months. Sometimes years. And if your answer is "a long time," too... that's not a failure. It's information. Many of us have been there.

What if the answers feel empty?

Sometimes the list from the first question is long. And the answer to the second one is just one word: empty.

Everything works. Nothing feels like yours anymore.

I call this mid-career emptiness. It's what's left when a life was built on doing, and the doing stopped feeling like you.

If that's what you found... it's ok. You're not broken. You don't need to fix it before January. Noticing it is already the first step. In my work, this is the stage I call Realize: the moment you finally admit something has to change.

And if the tiredness feels heavier than this, Burnout, and how to prevent it might help, too.

One sentence of permission

To close, write one sentence. Just for you. Not for anyone else.

Start with "It's ok that..." or "I'm allowed to..."

It's ok that this year was harder than it looked.

I'm allowed to want something different, even if I don't know what yet.

Keep it somewhere you'll see it in January. And beyond.

P.S. If you'd rather not do this alone, I'm guiding a quiet evening around these questions on Tuesday, 8 December, 18:00–19:30 CET, on Zoom. Save your seat now.