January won’t change you. A decision will.

If January was the answer, most of us would be living completely different lives by now.

But it isn’t the month that changes you. It’s the moment you decide: enough.

New year, new you is not how it works.

That’s why I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions. Not because you’re not motivated. And not because you don’t want change. But because for a lot of women, resolutions are just more pressure in a pretty outfit. They sound hopeful, but they can turn into another scoreboard. Another way to prove something to someone else.

The decision that changes things

Real change doesn’t always need a huge plan. It needs one clear decision. A clean call. A crack in the casing. A line in the sand. A moment where you say, I’m not doing it like that anymore.

And yes, that decision usually comes with discomfort. Because courage isn’t waiting for you to feel ready. Courage is feeling uncertainty and still moving. I’ve come to believe that feeling is often a sign there’s something on the other side for you. A gift. A truth. A version of you that you haven’t met yet.

The trap of chasing the high

A lot of people think the point is the high. That euphoric “oh my god, I did it” hit. And yep, it’s real. It usually happens the first time you walk through a door you’ve never walked through before, or the first time you do the thing you genuinely thought you couldn’t.

But if you build your motivation around that feeling, you’ll quit as soon as it stops showing up.

Because the second time you do the brave thing, the high is often gone. It’s quieter. Less dramatic. Less adrenaline. Because it’s not the unknown anymore.

The bank beats the buzz

Now it’s evidence. Now it’s a reference point. Now it’s a memory your system can point to. And that’s the real win.

Not the rush. The bank.

The self-trust you build when you prove yourself to you. When you keep showing up even when it doesn’t feel shiny. When you do the thing again and again, and it becomes who you are, not just something you tried once.

Because most people don’t give up when the plan is hard. They give up when their relationship with themselves is shit. They stop trusting themselves to follow through. They stop believing their own words. And they’ve got years of “I said I would… and I didn’t” sitting in the background like evidence against them.

So no, I’m not interested in you chasing the wow feeling. I’m more interested in you becoming addicted to building proof with yourself. Seeing what you can do. Remembering what you’ve already done. Building the kind of self-trust that doesn’t disappear the moment life gets busy again.

The year of the snake

2025 was the Year of the Snake. And whether you follow any of that or not, the metaphor is spot on.

A snake sheds because it’s time. It looks programmed. Organic. Almost effortless. No big story about it. No apology. No over-explaining. Just: I’m shedding today. And that’s that.

Humans do the same thing. We just don’t call it shedding.

Your body sheds around 30,000 skin cells a minute. And for most adults, your skin renews on a cycle of roughly 28 to 42 days (it slows as we age). So you’re already built for renewal. You just don’t notice it.

You call it: “I’m a bit off.” “I’m not myself lately.” “I don’t know why everything is irritating me.” “It’s just the season I’m in.”

But sometimes, that’s not you breaking down or losing your edge. That’s a layer coming off.

The soft stage

Sometimes it’s not snake shedding. Sometimes it’s lobster shedding.

A lobster outgrows the hard casing it’s been living in. And the only way forward is to let the whole thing go. Underneath, it’s soft. Meaty. Exposed. No armour.

And that’s the part most people can’t stand.

I think this is where a lot of women get stuck. Because for some people, the pain they’re in is more bearable than the thought of being that soft, vulnerable, exposed new version. So they stay in the old casing, even when it’s tight, even when it’s rubbing them raw, even when it’s not who they are anymore.

And they call it being realistic. Or responsible. Or strong. But it might just be fear of the soft stage.

Choose again

So here’s what I want to say as we head into the new year: No more resolutions. Choose again. Choose you.

Not the full reinvention. Not the whole life overhaul. Not a “fix myself” project. Just a clean decision that says: I’m ready to shed what I’ve outgrown.

Because that decision is what proves: “I can move, even with fear riding shotgun.”

And that’s the work I do with women.

I help you shed the layers you’ve had to wear to cope. To lead others. To keep everyone happy. To keep everything running. Not so you become a different person, but so you come back to the real one, without the old casing.

And now… 2026. We’re heading into the Year of the Horse.

Which feels fitting, doesn’t it.

Because this isn’t about shedding quietly and hoping life magically changes around you. Horses don’t do “wishful thinking.” They respond to what’s real. They respond to what’s clear.

So if 2025 was a year of shedding what you’ve outgrown, 2026 is the year to move. Not in a chaos way. Not in an “add more” way.

In a “I’m done circling this” way.
In a “clean slate, second chance, I’m choosing again” way.

If you’re ready to kickstart 2026 properly, I’ve got an event special that ends tonight.

Message me “GIDDY UP” and I’ll send you the details.