January has a way of asking a lot of us.

New plans. New habits. New energy. New versions of ourselves, preferably by Monday.

But this year, instead of making a list of everything I want to become, I’ve been thinking about something else entirely.

What I’m ready to set down.

Because sometimes the most meaningful shift doesn’t come from adding more, it comes from choosing what no longer needs to come along.

I’m not carrying the pressure to explain myself

Not every choice needs a backstory.

Not every slower pace needs justification. Not every boundary needs to be softened so it’s easier for others to swallow.

This year, I’m letting my decisions stand on their own. Quietly. Firmly. Without the urge to over-explain.

I’m not carrying the idea that everything must improve

There’s a constant hum that tells us life should always be getting better, more efficient, more polished, more impressive.

But some things don’t need to improve. They just need to be lived.

A familiar routine. A well-worn table. A way of doing things that works, even if it isn’t flashy.

I’m leaving behind the need to upgrade what’s already meaningful.

I’m not carrying perfection into my work

Handmade work is never perfect and that’s the point.

There are ink variations. Slight shifts. Evidence of human hands. That’s not a flaw. That’s the story.

This year, I’m not chasing flawless results. I’m choosing care over control. Presence over polish.

I’m not carrying urgency where it doesn’t belong

Not everything needs to be done faster.

Some things need time to unfold. Some seasons are for consistency, not intensity. Some days are simply for showing up and doing the work in front of you, nothing more, nothing less.

I’m letting go of manufactured urgency and trusting a steadier rhythm.

I’m not carrying comparison

Not to other businesses. Not to other homes. Not to other versions of life that look shinier from the outside.

Comparison drains the joy from what’s already here. It pulls us out of our own lives and into someone else’s highlight reel.

This year, I’m staying rooted where my feet actually are.

What I am carrying instead

Care. Attention. Small rituals that ground me in the day.

Morning light through the window. The weight of folded linen in my hands. The quiet satisfaction of making something slowly and well.

Nothing flashy. Nothing performative. Just the things that last.

The new year doesn’t need us to arrive reinvented. It just asks us to arrive honest.

And sometimes, that starts with choosing what we no longer need to bring with us.

I hope this inspired you to bring just a little less into the New Year. 

With love from the studio,

Whitney