My Gift to You: An Annual Review That Actually Works
How to reflect on 2025 with gratitude and set intentions for the year ahead—without pressure or rigid goals
This is Diana, Founder of Healthy Seniors, and for the last article I write this year, I want to do something special for all of you.
There is this process that I do every year at the end of December where I look at what happened this year, and I intentionally think about how I want my next year to be—what do I want to do, how do I want to feel. This process brings me so much gratitude for the year that’s ending and clarity for the year that’s starting, so I decided to adapt it for seniors and share it with you.
So find a nice, quiet place to sit, grab a pen and a cup of tea, and let’s start.
The Gift of Stillness in a Rushing World
James Clear, author of “Atomic Habits,” wrote something that captures exactly why this annual review matters:
“Reflection requires stillness.
One cost of rushing from thing to thing is that you lose the space to think. Hard work matters, but nonstop motion often hides a quiet truth: you could have used your time better.
If you never pause, you confuse activity with effectiveness. Make time to think. Walk outside. Sit quietly. Create space. Then move again, but this time on purpose.”
Read that last line again: Then move again, but this time on purpose.
That’s what this entire process is about. Creating space to pause. To reflect. To understand what your year actually held instead of letting it blur into one long, unmemorable stretch of days.
And then—only then—to move forward. But this time intentionally. This time knowing what matters. This time choosing how you want to show up instead of just reacting to whatever comes.
You might think, “But I’m not rushing from thing to thing anymore. My days are quiet. What do I need to reflect on?”
But stillness isn’t the same as intentionality. You can have quiet days that still feel empty because you’re not choosing them—they’re just happening to you. You can have a calm routine that leaves you feeling disconnected because you never stopped to ask: “Is this what I actually want?”
The distinction matters. One is passive. The other is purposeful.
And purposeful living—living with intention—doesn’t require a packed schedule or ambitious plans. It requires exactly what James Clear describes: the space to think, the willingness to pause, and the courage to move again with clarity.
That’s what we’re building together as 2025 comes to a close and 2026 begins.
Why This Year Deserves Your Attention
You might be thinking: “Another year’s passed. What’s there to review? My life is pretty much the same day after day.”
But that’s not really accurate, is it?
When you actually pause and look back, you’ll be surprised by how much happened. How many small moments of beauty you experienced. How many challenges you navigated. How many times you showed up even when it was hard.
Those moments deserve to be acknowledged. Not in a performative way, not for anyone else’s benefit, but for you. Because when you don’t pause to notice what you’ve lived through, it all blurs together into one long, exhausting stretch of time that feels simultaneously too fast and too slow.
And 2026 is coming whether you think about it or not. Days will turn into weeks, weeks into months, and before you know it, you’ll be sitting here again next December wondering where the time went.
But what if, instead, you approached the new year with intention? Not with pressure or impossible standards, but with quiet clarity about what you want to nurture in your life?
What if you knew, deep in your bones, what mattered most to you? And what if you had gentle practices to keep returning to that throughout the year?
That’s what this process offers. Not transformation. Not reinvention. Just clarity.
And clarity—knowing what matters and organizing your days around it—is perhaps the greatest gift you can give yourself.
The Weight of Unexamined Time
When you don’t pause to reflect on the year behind you, something happens:
The good moments disappear. You forget them. They happened, they brought you joy, and then they vanished into the blur of everyday life. All that beauty, all those small victories, all those moments when you felt truly alive—gone, because you never stopped to notice them.
The hard moments don’t get processed. They just sit there, taking up space in your body. That argument with your daughter in March. The diagnosis in July. The friend you lost in October. Without acknowledgment, without reflection, they become a weight you carry without even realizing it.
Patterns repeat themselves. You keep saying yes when you want to say no. You keep spending time on things that drain you. You keep feeling frustrated by the same situations because you never stopped to ask: “What can I learn from this?”
You lose track of who you’re becoming. The gap between who you were and who you are now widens, and it feels disorienting. You can’t quite name what’s changed, but everything feels different, and you don’t know why.
This isn’t about achieving more or being more. It’s about being present to your own life. About witnessing what you’ve lived through. About honoring both the joy and the struggle.
Your life matters. The year you just lived matters. And it deserves more than a rushed “where did the time go?” as you flip the calendar to 2026.
This is your invitation to create that space James Clear talks about. To pause. To sit quietly. To think. And then to move forward on purpose.
What This Process Is (And Isn’t)
Before we go any further, let’s be clear about what we’re doing here.
This is NOT:
❌ A productivity audit where you judge what you accomplished
❌ A comparison exercise where you measure yourself against others
❌ A goal-setting session where you commit to becoming someone different
❌ A pressure-filled commitment to change everything about your life
❌ Another thing that makes you feel inadequate
This IS:
✅ A gentle reflection on the year you actually lived
✅ An acknowledgment of both beauty and hardship
✅ An opportunity to identify what brought you peace and what drained you
✅ A chance to set quiet intentions for how you want to show up in 2026
✅ Permission to honor where you are right now
The difference matters. Goals demand achievement. Intentions invite presence.
Goals say: “I will lose 20 pounds, read 50 books, travel to five countries.” And when January 15th rolls around and you haven’t stuck to the plan, you feel like a failure.
Intentions say: “I want to move my body gently. I want to nourish my curiosity. I want to say yes to experiences that bring me joy.” There’s no pass/fail. There’s only returning, again and again, to what matters.
This process is designed for real life. For bodies that don’t cooperate. For energy that comes and goes. For days when just getting through is enough.
Part One: Looking Back at 2025 With Honest Eyes
Let’s start by acknowledging what was. Not to dwell, not to judge, but simply to witness.
This is where stillness comes in. Where you create the space to think instead of rushing forward into another year without looking back.
The Gratitude Snapshot: Where Did You Feel Most Alive?
Instead of scoring your life like a performance review, we’re going to approach this differently. We’re going to ask gentler questions.
Think about these areas of your life. Not to judge them, but simply to notice where you felt most present, most yourself, most alive in 2025:
Health & Vitality – When did your body feel good? When did you have energy? What helped you feel strong or comfortable?
Family Connections – What moments with family brought you genuine joy? When did you feel truly seen and heard by the people you love?
Friendships & Community – Who made you laugh? Who showed up for you? When did you feel less alone?
Home & Comfort – What made your living space feel peaceful? What daily rhythms brought you comfort?
Meaning & Purpose – What made you feel like you mattered? When did you feel useful or needed in a good way?
Creativity & Learning – What sparked your curiosity? What did you enjoy learning or creating?
Spirituality & Inner Peace – When did you feel most at peace? What practices or moments connected you to something larger than yourself?
Legacy & Contribution – How did you share your wisdom? How did you help others?
For each area, don’t score it. Instead, simply complete this sentence:
“In 2025, I felt most alive in this area when...”
Notice where the energy is. Notice where the joy was. Notice where you felt most like yourself.
And just as importantly, notice where you felt drained, where you felt disconnected, where you felt like you were just going through the motions.
Both matter. Both are telling you something important.
This is what James Clear means when he talks about the quiet truth that nonstop motion hides. When you pause to reflect, you can see clearly: which activities actually brought you life, and which were just filling time?
The Memory Jars: What Your Year Actually Held
Now we’re going to do something that might surprise you: we’re going to remember the year in detail.
Not because you need to document everything. Not because every moment was significant. But because when you actually look back with intention, you’ll see things you’d completely forgotten.
Take out your calendar, your photos, your journal if you keep one. Go through 2025 month by month, season by season. And as you do, sort what you find into two categories:
The TREASURES jar – Moments that filled you up
Times you laughed until your sides hurt
Conversations that made you feel truly known
Moments of unexpected beauty or peace
Achievements that actually mattered to you (not what “should” matter)
Acts of kindness you received or gave
Times you felt proud of yourself
Experiences you’d relive if you could
The LESSONS jar – Challenges that taught you something
Difficulties you navigated
Losses you grieved
Relationships that strained or broke
Health scares or setbacks
Moments when you realized something important
Times you showed up even when it was hard
Situations that revealed what you don’t want
Notice that the second jar isn’t called “The Failures” or “The Bad Things.” It’s called “The Lessons.” Because even the hardest moments of 2025 taught you something about who you are, what you need, or what matters most.
This isn’t toxic positivity. This isn’t pretending everything happens for a reason. Some things in 2025 were just hard, and there’s no deeper lesson beyond “that was really, really hard.”
But some of those difficult moments revealed something you needed to know. And those are worth acknowledging.
As you fill these jars, don’t rush. Take your time. Let the memories surface. Some will surprise you. Some will make you smile. Some might make you cry.
All of it deserves to be witnessed.
The Wisdom Questions: What Your Heart Knows
Now that you’ve gathered the data of your year, it’s time to ask the deeper questions. The ones that cut through all the noise and get to what actually matters.
Find a quiet moment. Make yourself a cup of tea. Settle into your favorite chair. And spend some time with these questions. Don’t rush your answers. Let them unfold.
About Presence:
When did I feel most present in 2025? Most like myself?
What activities or experiences made time disappear in a good way?
When did I feel most peaceful? Most at ease in my own skin?
About Connection:
Which relationships brought me the most joy this year?
When did I feel truly seen and heard?
Who made me feel less alone?
Were there relationships that drained me? What was I tolerating that I don’t want to carry into 2026?
About Meaning:
What gave me a sense of purpose this year?
When did I feel like I mattered?
What wisdom did I share? How did I contribute?
What small moments brought me the most satisfaction?
About Change:
How am I different now than I was in January 2025?
What have I learned about what I need?
What surprised me about myself this year?
What do I understand now that I didn’t before?
About Loss:
What did I lose this year? (People, abilities, roles, independence, certainty)
Have I allowed myself to grieve those losses? Or am I pretending they don’t matter?
What support do I need as I navigate what’s changing?
About Joy:
What simple pleasures brought me the most happiness?
When did I laugh? What made me smile?
If I could preserve one feeling from 2025 and carry it with me, what would it be?
About Intentionality:
Looking back, where was I moving on purpose, and where was I just moving?
When did I confuse being busy with being effective?
What would I have done differently if I’d been more intentional?
These aren’t easy questions. Some of them will be uncomfortable. That’s okay. Discomfort means you’re being honest.
Write down whatever comes. Stream of consciousness. No editing. No judging. Just honesty.
When you answer these questions with genuine reflection, patterns emerge. You start to see clearly what nurtures you and what depletes you. You start to understand what you want more of and what you’re ready to release.
That clarity? That’s what we’re building toward.
Part Two: Setting Intentions for 2026
Now that you’ve witnessed 2025 with honest eyes, now that you’ve acknowledged both the beauty and the difficulty, it’s time to think about the year ahead.
Not with pressure. Not with ambitious goals that set you up for failure. But with gentle, quiet intention.
This is where you move again—but this time on purpose.
From Goals to Intentions: Understanding the Difference
Before we go further, let’s talk about why we’re using the word “intentions” instead of “goals.”
A goal says: “I will exercise three times a week.”
An intention says: “I intend to move my body in ways that feel good.”
A goal says: “I will call my grandchildren every Sunday.”
An intention says: “I intend to stay connected to the people I love.”
A goal says: “I will read 24 books this year.”
An intention says: “I intend to nourish my curiosity and imagination.”
See the difference?
Goals are rigid. They set you up for a pass/fail dynamic. They work well for younger people building careers and families, for people who need external motivation and measurable outcomes.
But at this stage of life? Goals often become one more thing you’re failing at. One more way you’re not measuring up. One more source of stress in a life that already has plenty.
Intentions are different. Intentions are about how you want to show up, not what you want to achieve. They’re about direction, not destination. They’re about returning, again and again, to what matters, even when you get off track.
Intentions make room for hard days, for bodies that don’t cooperate, for energy that fluctuates. They don’t demand perfection. They invite presence.
Intentions are purposeful. They’re what James Clear means when he says “move again, but this time on purpose.” You’re not just drifting through 2026. You’re choosing how you want to be, what you want to nurture, what you want to honor.
That’s what we’re building here. Not a list of achievements you’ll abandon by February. A set of quiet guideposts that will help you navigate 2026 with more clarity and peace.
Your Heart’s Compass: What Do You Want to Nurture?
Based on everything you reflected on in Part One, it’s time to ask: What do I want to cultivate in 2026?
Not achieve. Not accomplish. Cultivate.
Think of it like tending a garden. You don’t force flowers to bloom. You create conditions that help them grow. You water them, you give them sunlight, you remove the weeds that choke them out.
That’s what intentions do. They create conditions for the life you want to live.
Look back at your gratitude snapshot. Where did you feel most alive in 2025? That’s what you want more of.
Look at your memory jars. What brought you joy? What drained you? What do you want to invite in, and what do you want to gently release?
Look at your wisdom questions. What did your heart tell you it needs?
Now, for each area of life that matters to you, complete this sentence:
“In 2026, I intend to...”
Here are some examples to help you think:
Health & Vitality:
“I intend to listen to my body and honor what it needs.”
“I intend to move gently and rest fully.”
“I intend to nourish myself with food that makes me feel good.”
Family Connections:
“I intend to be fully present when I’m with my grandchildren.”
“I intend to speak my truth with love, even when it’s uncomfortable.”
“I intend to set boundaries that protect my peace.”
Friendships & Community:
“I intend to reach out, even when I feel like a burden.”
“I intend to say yes to invitations that genuinely interest me and no to ones that don’t.”
“I intend to be the kind of friend I want to have.”
Home & Comfort:
“I intend to create a space that feels peaceful and reflects who I am now.”
“I intend to let go of things I’m only keeping out of guilt or obligation.”
“I intend to build rhythms and rituals that bring me comfort.”
Meaning & Purpose:
“I intend to share my stories and wisdom with people who want to hear them.”
“I intend to contribute in ways that don’t deplete me.”
“I intend to remember that I matter, even when I’m not doing anything productive.”
Creativity & Learning:
“I intend to follow my curiosity without pressure to be good at anything.”
“I intend to make time for activities that make me lose track of time.”
“I intend to try one new thing, even if I’m terrible at it.”
Spirituality & Inner Peace:
“I intend to create space for quiet and stillness.”
“I intend to notice beauty when it appears.”
“I intend to practice letting go of what I can’t control.”
Legacy & Contribution:
“I intend to document the stories I want my family to remember.”
“I intend to be generous with my time and wisdom.”
“I intend to live in a way that reflects my values.”
These aren’t commandments. They’re gentle guideposts. Ways of being that you want to return to, again and again, throughout the year.
You won’t do them perfectly. You’ll forget. You’ll get distracted. You’ll have hard days and weeks where intentions feel impossible.
That’s okay. That’s being human.
The power of intentions is that you can always return to them. Always. No matter how long it’s been, no matter how far you’ve drifted, you can come back.
How You’ll Remember
Intentions without practices are just wishes. But practices don’t have to be complicated or time-consuming.
For each intention you’ve set, ask yourself: “What’s one small, sustainable practice that supports this?”
If your intention is “I intend to stay connected to people I love,” your practice might be: “I’ll call one person every Monday morning.”
If your intention is “I intend to move my body gently,” your practice might be: “I’ll take a short walk after breakfast when the weather’s good.”
If your intention is “I intend to create space for quiet,” your practice might be: “I’ll sit in my chair for five minutes each morning before I turn on the TV.”
These practices should be:
Small enough that they’re actually sustainable (Don’t commit to an hour of journaling if you’ve never journaled before)
Flexible enough to accommodate hard days (On days you can’t walk, you can stretch in your chair)
Connected to what actually brings you peace, not what you think you “should” do
And the crucial part: these practices aren’t more goals to fail at. They’re gentle invitations back to what matters.
Some weeks you’ll do them. Some weeks you won’t. Some months you’ll forget they exist. And then, one day, you’ll remember, and you’ll come back.
That returning—that’s the practice. Not perfection. Returning.
Moments to Anticipate: What Brings You Joy
Finally, let’s look ahead at 2026 and name the moments you’re looking forward to.
Not obligations. Not things you have to do. Things you want to do. Things that make you feel excited or peaceful or curious.
Maybe it’s:
Your grandson’s graduation in May
The garden you’ll plant in spring
The trip you’re planning to visit your sister
The weekly coffee date with your friend
The book club you want to join
The quiet mornings in your favorite chair
Write them down. Put them on your calendar. These are anchor points throughout the year. Things to look forward to when the days feel long.
And if 2026 feels like a blank slate, if there’s nothing you’re particularly excited about? That’s information too. That might be your invitation to add something small that brings you joy. A subscription to a magazine you love. A standing lunch date once a month. A new ritual for Sunday mornings.
You deserve to have things to look forward to. Not someday. In 2026.
How to Keep Coming Back
Intentions are easy to set in December and easy to forget by March.
Not because you’re weak or undisciplined. Because life happens. Because the everyday takes over. Because old patterns are comfortable even when they don’t serve you.
So let’s build in gentle ways to return to what matters:
Monthly Check-ins (First Day of Each Month):
Spend 15 minutes with your tea and your journal. Ask yourself:
What brought me joy this month?
What drained me?
Am I living in alignment with my intentions, or have I drifted?
What’s one small adjustment I want to make?
Seasonal Reviews (Four Times a Year):
At the start of each season, look back at the last three months. What changed? What stayed the same? What do you want to carry forward, and what are you ready to release?
Conversations With People You Trust:
Share your intentions with someone who loves you. Not so they can hold you accountable (that’s pressure), but so they can gently remind you when you’ve forgotten. “Hey, didn’t you say you wanted to start painting again? How’s that going?”
Visual Reminders:
Write your intentions on a card and put it somewhere you’ll see it. Your bathroom mirror. The fridge. Your nightstand. Not to guilt yourself, but to gently remind yourself of what you said mattered.
Permission to Adjust:
Your intentions aren’t set in stone. If something isn’t serving you, change it. If you set an intention in December that feels wrong in April, let it go. This is your life. You get to adjust as you learn and grow.
The point isn’t rigid adherence to a plan. The point is returning, again and again, to presence. To awareness. To what actually matters.
The point is living on purpose instead of just living on autopilot.
New Year, New Possibilities
As we publish this on December 30th, 2025, we’re standing at a threshold. One year ending. Another beginning.
And January brings something powerful: the fresh start effect.
Research shows that temporal landmarks—like the beginning of a new year, a new month, even a new week—give us a psychological boost. They create a sense of possibility. A feeling that we can begin again.
That’s why January is our monthly theme: New Year, New Possibilities.
Throughout January, we’ll be exploring how you can harness this fresh start energy—not to pressure yourself into dramatic changes, but to gently build habits that support the intentions you’ve set.
We’ll talk about:
How to start small and build momentum
Why identity-based habits work better than outcome-based goals
How to design your environment to make good habits easier
What to do when motivation fades (and it will)
How to be kind to yourself when you stumble
Because intentions need support. They need systems. They need the kind of gentle, sustainable practices that actually stick.
And that’s what we’ll build together in January.
For now, though, your work is simple: pause. Reflect. Set your intentions. Create space to think, just as James Clear suggests.
Then, when January arrives, we’ll help you move again—but this time on purpose.
I Created Something to Help You
This article gives you the framework, but I wanted to make sure you had everything you need actually to complete this process.
So I created a comprehensive workbook to guide you through every step: “Looking Back, Moving Forward: A Gentle Annual Review & Intentions Guide for 2026.”
Think of it as your companion for the next few days. It includes:
Detailed prompts for each reflection question with space to write your answers
Month-by-month templates for your memory jars
Intention-setting worksheets for each life area
Practice-building guides to make your intentions sustainable
Monthly and seasonal check-in templates you can use throughout the year
Printable reminder cards for your intentions
This is my gift to you for 2026.
No catch. No email list you have to join. No upsell waiting on the other side.
Just a tool created with care because this process has brought me so much clarity and gratitude, and I believe it can do the same for you.
You’ve lived through 2025. You’ve survived hard things. You’ve experienced beautiful moments. And now you get to witness all of it, honor all of it, and carry forward only what serves you.
Make time to think. Create space. Then move again, but this time on purpose.
Here’s to a 2026 filled with clarity, peace, and purposeful living.
Happy New Year,
Diana