Radical Optimism and Ruthless Apathy: New Year’s Intentions

Carol McCormick
Jan 14
5 min read

January 2026 Blog by Storyteller Carol McCormick

Life doesn't come with a remote. You have to get up and change it yourself.”

~ Sam Horn

"The year turns, and it does not arrive lightly" ~ Robert Ferrell

In other words: Happy New Year! Please enjoy this fresh start, which arrives dragging last year’s news behind it like an overstuffed carry-on.

2026 is the Year of the Fire Horse, which only comes galloping through every 60 years. The Horse represents freedom, courage, and movement. Add Fire, and suddenly we’re talking bold, blazing, fearless momentum. Not subtle. Apparently, we’re all supposed to feel a powerful urge to move forward and transform. No pressure.

Resolutions vs. Intentions

I prefer intentions over resolutions. Resolutions are bossy. They wag fingers. They smell faintly of shame and disappointment. They love to show up mid-February and say, “Well, look who failed again.” I don’t keep resolutions. This is largely because my resolutions tend to be wildly optimistic and completely disconnected from reality, like deciding I’ll suddenly enjoy burpees.

Intentions, on the other hand, are kinder. They whisper instead of shout - they’re rooted in forgiveness and curiosity, not guilt. Big changes don’t usually happen through grand gestures anyway. They happen through small, repeated actions - the boring, unglamorous

stuff that actually works.

Every small choice I make to care for myself counts. Especially, the tiny ones.

First, What I Intend Not to Do:

Before naming my intentions for 2026, I looked back at what worked, what didn’t, what fed my soul - and what absolutely sucked the life out of it. Based on that research (also known as lived experience), here’s what I will NOT be doing:

I will not keep my house perfectly clean at all times. We will not live in squalor. But I refuse to feel guilt over dust, creative clutter, or the occasional mysterious ring in the toilet bowl. Life is short.
I will not finish every book I start. Maybe it’s my middle-child pleaser tendencies. Perhaps it’s Puritan ghosts whispering, “If it’s unpleasant, it must be good for you.” Or maybe it’s writer solidarity. Either way, books now get 100 pages to earn my loyalty. After that? I reserve the right to walk away without shame.
I will not spend so much time on social media. I love the connection, as living in the country can be lonely - but I also know my brain enjoys scrolling a little too much. I tell myself, “I’ll just read two posts,” and suddenly it’s dark outside, and I’ve read fifty.
I will not become consumed by politics. Concern? Yes. Obsession? No. I refuse to let outrage hijack my nervous system. I will read books, watch movies, walk, meditate, see friends, and find something to laugh at every single day.

What I Intend to Do:

Take bold new steps. Trust the unknown. Occasionally leap. Launch new creations. Lead with authenticity. Choose direction over perfection. Coach myself instead of criticizing myself. Start small—but START! Work with what’s actually in front of me instead of waiting for ideal conditions (which, let’s be honest, do not exist).
Listen more. Talk less. This will be VERY HARD for me. My popcorn brain throws out ideas at 90 miles per minute. Please feel free to lovingly remind me if I interrupt you. My mother tried to break me of this habit without success. It seems I have a compulsion to think out loud.
Move my body every day. Walking and yoga will get out of my head and back into my body. Repetition, timing, and reward are key—because my brain likes treats. I’ll do this outside when the weather permits.
Spend less time online. Social media will be a tool, not a vortex. I’ll turn off my computer and read a real book for 30 minutes at bedtime. Research links heavy social media use with depression, anxiety, stress, loneliness, and low self-worth. And frankly, I already know this from personal experience.
Meditate daily. Silence helps my next steps emerge without force. I’ll remember: things take the time they take, not the time I wish they’d take. I’ll slow down and ask for Divine guidance and inspiration.
Hug more humans. Family, friends, strangers (with consent). Hug on the right, then hug on the left side, where our hearts meet. Extra kisses for my husband, kids, and grandkids, plus frequent verbal reminders that I love them.
Eat less sugar and grains. With compassion, willpower alone won’t cut it. I’ll change my environment instead. Translation: don’t stock the house like a bakery.
Take solo awe walks. See the world with children’s eyes. According to Paulo Coelho, “Only children believe they are capable of everything." I’m borrowing that mindset.
Carry a notebook. For observations - not judgments. To cultivate ruthless apathy (the healthy kind). Less reacting, more noticing. Possibly lower blood pressure and reduce heartburn. (I come from a very judgmental family, so this will be a challenge!)
Make a daily To-Do list. Checking things off feels amazing—and it’s a reward for getting less desirable stuff done. My memory is no longer what it used to be. Small helps matter in carrying through on my intentions. I’ll aim to include something that helps others. "What improves the bee improves the hive."
Play more. Play is not frivolous. It’s how we learn faster, think better, and feel more alive. Adults still have the same inner circuitry as children - we've just forgotten to turn it on. Wisdom doesn’t have to be serious. Many breakthroughs arrive when the mind is relaxed, rather than straining.

The “21 days to change a habit” thing? A myth. Research indicates it takes two months or longer to get a new habit. So I’ll start gently and build slowly instead of sprinting out of the gate and collapsing by February.

Think Groundhog Day: same container, slightly better choices, over and over. That’s what changes everything.

I’m printing these intentions and posting them where I can see them - so they don’t quietly wander off.