I’ve never loved New Year goals or resolutions. They’ve always felt forced, like trying to sprint, you hate running. Honestly, my birthday feels more like the start of my year anyway. Instead of resolutions, I choose a word. One word to carry, sit with, wrestle through. This year, it’s a word I’ve already been living with for a while now: Intentional.

You know, one of the first signs of burnout I totally ignored? When the easy things, like really easy things, suddenly felt impossibly hard.

I don’t run for fitness. I don’t run for fun. But give me a deadline or a mission I believe in? I’m sprinting, and spoiler alert, that sprinting has sent me straight to burnout. I don’t know why I’m wired this way. Why I equate success with hustle. Why I feel most alive when I’m contributing, moving, fixing, and leading. I have a hard time sitting still. I like results. I like action. And yes, I’ve been called a control freak more times than I can count.