What Have You Already Decided About the Rest of Your Year?
Two months remain in 2026. What might become possible if you left room to be surprised?
You open your diary, glance at November, and something in you sighs before you’ve read a single entry.
Perhaps you’ve already said it, out loud or quietly to yourself:
“It’s going to be chaos.” “Everyone is exhausted.” “There’s no point starting anything now.” “I just need to get through to December.”
None of this is unreasonable. It's been a full year, with deadlines, school commitments, decisions to make, and people who need things from you. The tiredness is real.
But notice what has happened. The weeks haven’t been lived yet, and you’ve already written their story.
When we decide the rest of the year is something to survive, everything in it starts to look like another demand. A conversation becomes an interruption. An invitation becomes an obligation. Even the things we were looking forward to become one more thing to get through.
The calendar may still hold possibilities that our description of it has already closed.
The conclusion we bring into the room
In recent workshops and coaching conversations, I keep noticing how much we carry into a situation before anything has happened.
We walk into a meeting expecting someone to be difficult, and we’ve built our defence before they’ve said a word. We look at our workload, decide everything is equally urgent, and then can’t have an honest conversation about what comes first. We tell ourselves we’re always the one who has to hold it all together, so when someone offers to help, we explain why it's easier to do it ourselves.
Often, these conclusions are rooted in real experience. Someone did let you down. The demands really do exceed the capacity.
So the question isn’t whether your conclusion is justified. It’s this: does it leave any room for something different to happen?
If I’ve decided someone never listens, will I notice the moment they try?
If I’ve written off the rest of the year, what have I quietly stopped making room for?
Listen for the word “just”
“I just need to finish this project.” “I just need to get through the next few weeks.” “I just need everyone to go on leave.”
Sometimes there truly is a demanding season to navigate, and getting through it is an achievement. But listen for what you keep placing on the other side of that “just”: rest, enjoyment, a conversation that matters, time with someone you love, permission to do something simply because you want to.
Then ask yourself honestly how many times the finish line has moved this year. The project ends, and the next deadline arrives. The diary opens up, and you fill it straight away. The chance to pause appears, and you use it to catch up.
What are you waiting for January to give you permission to do?
Some changes need planning, resources and the right timing. Others could begin with a small choice this week. You could ask for clarity instead of silently carrying an unrealistic expectation. You could set a date for the coffee instead of sending another “we must catch up” message. You could spend twenty minutes on something you enjoy without first turning it into something useful.
Let someone surprise you, including yourself
By this point in the year, we’ve collected a great deal of evidence about ourselves and the people around us. We know who takes over, who withdraws, who needs reassurance and who says yes too quickly.
The Enneagram has taught me that recognising a pattern is a gift. It lets us respond with more compassion and less reactivity. But a pattern can also become a way of deciding we already know how the story ends.
If you’re the responsible one, what would happen if you let someone else make the arrangements?
If you pride yourself on your independence, could you ask for support before you reach exhaustion?
If you’ve become guarded in a relationship, is there one honest question you could ask, and then genuinely listen to the answer rather than preparing your response? Or anticipating theirs?
A different choice will probably feel uncomfortable, precisely because it’s unfamiliar. You’ll feel the pull to step back in, to explain more, to return to what you know. That moment is worth noticing. It’s where you practise having more than one way of being.
Choose one opening
Before you plan the remaining weeks, give yourself ten quiet minutes with these questions:
What have I already decided is inevitable between now and December?
Where am I responding to an old experience rather than what is true today?
What have I postponed that would make these weeks feel more meaningful?
Then choose one answer and make it concrete.
If you want less resentment, name the agreement that needs revisiting. If you want more connection, send the invitation. If you want a different experience of your workload, ask which commitment matters most, and what can move.
Then watch what happens. Every small step gives you new evidence about other people, and about what you are able to choose.
A great end to the year can still include unfinished work, hard days and plans that change. It can also include a repaired conversation, a boundary you finally honour, or a small pleasure you stop postponing.
The year isn’t finished with you yet. Leave a little room for it to surprise you.
When you look back on 2026, what will you be glad you made room for while the year was still happening?
Here's to ending the year your way,
Warm wishes,
Lori