Restraint
I’m mulling over my 2026 New Year’s Resolutions already, being one of those insufferable types who enjoys lists and goals and tracking progress.
I’ve tried making detailed lists with extensive bullet points, but if I don’t leave room for flexibility in my systems, I’m likely to abandon them. I’ve learned to keep things simple, which sometimes means just jotting down one or two specific points, or focusing on a general theme. For example, last year I went with a word of the year. Write.
And I did write. To the point that my sense of identity shifted. I now consider myself a writer even if I never publish anything important, though I’m still figuring out certain details. Things like my voice, my preferred genre, and the way I want to exist in online spaces like Substack—do I play it safe, or do I delve deeper, exploring ideas that might overwhelm people in ordinary conversation. I’m trusting these things will sort themselves out with time.
Next year’s word is already revealing itself without much prodding from me: restraint.
It’s similar enough to discipline, which was the first word that came to mind but not quite accurate. It hits the same benchmarks, but without the pressure of implementation. Where restraint builds the muscle to refrain from bad habits, discipline takes it to the next level, replacing bad habits with good ones.
But I’m not there yet. It’s too much pressure. And like I said, I wouldn’t want to over-specify, so although restraint can lead to discipline, it’s not required and that’s what I like about it.
And restraint just seems like a good idea in this economy.
But it also applies to nearly every realm of my life. Things like:
Keeping myself from self-deprecating to fill the space in awkward conversational lulls, and not sharing details beyond the social script with people who aren’t interested.
Halting rumination as self-regulation, especially if the subject of my thoughts isn’t worth the energy
Forcing myself to take breaks from hyperfocused states to maintain basic needs. In doing this, I suspect I won’t actually lose the creative current I’m riding, but will instead be able to re-enter the flow more easily over a longer period of time without the burnout.
Making food instead of eating out, buying less but better quality, and DIYing where possible.
Saying less when irritated or angry.
But wait. This is starting to look an awful lot like a detailed list. I’ll return to the word—restraint, and the goal of strengthening what has become an underused mental muscle, correcting years of overextending—talking too much, trying to be understood, and giving too much. Generally hemorrhaging energy and effort in places where there’s a low return on investment.
I have theories about how life might change by redirecting my energy in more useful ways. Perhaps it will alleviate some of the anxiety I’ve grown accustomed to living with. Revert me back to a truer state of being. The me I was before the burden of existential depression. Perhaps I’ll learn to play and enjoy and feel things again rather than letting intellectualization run amok.
We’ll see.