I've been thinking about this quote from one of our past speakers, “When you change the way you look at things, the things you look at truly change.” – Lindsey Dancygier. It’s only February, but I’ve realised how much my mindset around the start of the year has shifted. I used to see these months as gloomy, slow, something to just get through. But it is still the beginning of a brand new year. There’s space here to reset, to grow, and to notice the small wins as they come, even on the grey days. Trying to focus less on the big picture pressure and more on the quiet progress along the way ✨

In today’s ’We’re in it Together’ session we touched upon the strange little souvenirs some of us picked up during Covid. New hobbies, new coping mechanisms, new ways of staying vaguely sane when the world felt like it was buffering. I shared that I, too, experimented. A lot. Some attempts landed. Some… did not. (Brief, enthusiastic, and very short-lived flirtation with weightlifting, for example.) But one hobby stuck around longer than most: epoxy resin. This is notable primarily because I am not, nor have I ever been, crafty. No artistic childhood. No hidden talent waiting patiently to emerge. And yet, there I was, dreaming up designs and color combos, pouring resin, curing pieces, and even signing up for my first ever craft fair. Was it a runaway success? Absolutely not. Did I make about $400? Yes. Did that even begin to cover the cost of supplies, tools, errors, and “learning moments”? Also no. But I did gift everyone handmade presents that Christmas, which people are still to this day proudly displaying in their homes. I learned something new about myself. And for a little while, I let curiosity win over perfection. So in the spirit of laughing at ourselves and sharing the learning, I’m attaching a few photos from my short-lived but genuinely joyful resin era. Proof that trying something new doesn’t have to be profitable, polished, or permanent to still be worth it. Sometimes it just has to be… attempted. 💜

True happiness and self-integrity depend on the balance between who we let in and what we keep for ourselves. Boundaries protect the time and energy we need to honor our personal promises, while community provides the support and belonging that makes those promises meaningful. By rooting our lives in both, we transform the "everyday" from a series of tasks into a purposeful and joyful journey.

Sometimes we cling to jobs we no longer love because of financial security or simple comfort, yet delaying the inevitable only holds us back from our true potential. Taking timely decisions is essential, as closing one door is often the only way to let a much larger opportunity open. Sharing these struggles during our "We’re In It Together" session reminded me that we aren't alone in this transition. Finding support in the community gives us the courage to choose growth over stagnancy and trust the path ahead.

In our Running on Empty meeting, Lyndsey Lyman reminded us that we can’t find true rest while tethered to our devices. By disconnecting from our phones at least an hour before bed, we shut off the "blue light" and digital noise that keep our brains in high gear. This simple boundary lowers cortisol and allows the mind to transition naturally into deep, restorative sleep. Instead of draining our last bit of energy on a screen, we create the space needed to actually refill our tanks. It turns out that the best way to stop running on empty is to finally unplug the drain.