Your 2025 Self-Care “Wrapped” (no resolutions required)
From the Sunday Self-Care Chronicles | 12/14/25
This week’s issue offers a gentler way to reflect as the year comes to a close — one rooted in your body, not the calendar. Through a personal story and a few thoughtful prompts, this special edition invites you to look back without pressure and remember that meaningful self-care doesn’t need to wait for January.
This week’s issue touches on:
✨ Letting go of the “new year, new you” mindset
✨ Choosing your own timing instead of following the calendar
✨ What creating more time and space made possible this year
✨ Body-based reflection prompts to help you carry forward what truly matters
Read the full email below - and if something speaks to you please feel free to comment, share, or reach out!
Hi sugar plum,
Every December, I watch the world collectively sprint toward a new year anticipating deep introspection and lasting change — as if the minute the calendar flips, we’re all supposed to suddenly become wiser, clearer, more disciplined versions of ourselves.
And Honestly? This used to be me too.
I couldn't wait to set goals, create a new vision board, and finally make it MY YEAR!
And while I still have goals for 2026, and am looking forward to choosing my word for the year and creating a digital vision board (they really are powerful!), the energy around what it means to reflect and plan has changed for me.
Looking back at so many years of “new year, new you” mentality, my inner snark now rolls her eyes so hard she almost sprained something (at least that's what I'm blaming today's headache on and not the Eggnog Alexander martini I had last night).
Because here’s the thing:
Reflection doesn’t require a deadline.
Clarity doesn’t need a countdown.
And you don’t have to wait for January to take yourself seriously.
Let me tell you a little story.
A couple of weeks ago, my friend April gifted me a book called The Pivot Year — a daily reflection book you’re supposed to read one page at a time for an entire year. 365 pages for 365 days.
Most people would tuck it away until January 1st. I would have in the past. I almost did. You know… “start fresh,” “new energy,” “new me,” all that good stuff.
But this time, I didn’t wait.
There was something delicious about opening it now — in the beginning of December, amid holiday chaos and twinkle lights and emotional whiplash.
It felt like reclaiming my own timing instead of outsourcing my healing to a future date on a calendar.
I also am not forcing myself to read one page every day.
While that is my hope, if I miss a day (or two or three or even four), I know the next one is waiting for me whenever the timing is right.
Because is this isn't a planner. It's not dated. It's just for me to work through at my pace, and on my terms — reminding my inner perfectionist that sometimes good enough really is enough.
With this new perspective, the biggest lesson I have looking back at 2025 is this:
This year didn’t require a list of resolutions. It required space.
Space to say fewer yeses.
Space to listen when my body whispered “enough.”
Space to move through life without gripping everything so tightly.
Many of you know that I stepped back from a couple of important and time-consuming commitments last fall, leaving my role as President of the Board of Directors for our local breast cancer non-profit, and New York State representative for the Society for Oncology Massage.
These were not easy things to do — saying no to people and organizations that I believe in so fully and want to see succeed.
But I also had to let the contributions I had already made be enough, and trust that they no longer needed me to get them there.
And in saying no to them, I was able to say YES to myself.
Looking back, I've realized that this year, for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t bulldoze myself in the name of productivity, people-pleasing, or trying to prove myself (to myself or anyone else).
I stepped back — and wouldn’t you know it? That step back created more ease than anything I’ve "pushed" has ever brought me.
Even my hair dresser asked what had changed in my life because I have more hair than ever before! (Yes, stress can cause hair thinning and loss, or at least slow growth).
And the only thing that I have actively done is create more space in my days, weeks, and months so that the foundation on which I do everything is more stable and sustainable.
It's why I've come to believe time and space are the first of six essential elements for active healing. You can read more about this on my Philosophy Page.
So why all these stories and reflections?
Because it's time to create your own 2025 Self-Care Wrapped.
Not the “how many goals did you hit” version.
Not the “who was your top artist on Spotify” version (mine was most definitely Taylor Swift; let’s be honest).
But this one:
✨ What did your body teach you this year?
✨ What eased you when nothing else did?
✨ What surprised you about healing?
✨ What limits did you meet that ended up being gifts?
✨ What do you want to take with you into 2026?
✨ And what is offering itself up to be laid down?
You don’t need to answer them perfectly.
You don’t even need to answer them today.
Just let them simmer. Let them live in your body for a bit.
Because the truth is:
You don’t need January to start something meaningful.
You don’t need a new year to pivot.
And you definitely don’t need a list of resolutions to honor yourself.
Your timing is yours.
Your pace is yours.
Your healing is yours.
And if your body is already whispering what she wants next
Trust her. She’s rarely wrong.
I’ll be back next week with a short holiday note and a heads-up about my upcoming break. But for now — take a breath. Put your hand on your heart. And remember you get to begin again whenever you damn well please.
With love, warmth, and a wink, I'm always in this with you.
P.S. If you celebrate Hanukkah, wishing you a meaningful and light-filled start to the holiday. 🕯️
P.P.S. If this reflection stirred something in you, my e-book is a gentle place to start — education, clarity, and body-based self-care you can explore now or return to later. No pressure. No January deadline. Just support when you’re ready.
P.P.P.S. If you’ve enjoyed the Chronicles this year and want to support my work, sharing this email with someone who needs it is one of the kindest gifts you could give. Truly.