2026 is the year she stops surviving and starts being more. Not more busy. Not more impressive. More regulated. More at peace. More herself. She's done calling exhaustion "strength." Done living with a nervous system that never feels safe. Last year cracked her open and showed her how much she's been carrying in silence. But pain doesn't get to write the next chapter. She wants calm mornings. Soft nights. Love that doesn't require armor. A life that feels gentle instead of heavy. She is me.