Yes, you read that correctly. This year, I have no expectations. It may seem jarring to people, but my reasons for putting this into place are appropriate.

For as long as I can remember, I made New Year expectations, not resolutions. Those expectations usually involved making new friends, upping my author business, dating, etc. I also followed a few New Year traditions. 12 grapes for good luck (not love), red underwear to bring in love, and cleaning all laundry before the New Year, etc. Don’t think I just had these expectations and did these things hoping they would fall out of the sky. No, I did the work, which is why 2026 is the year of no expectations.

And when I say I did the work, for years, I did it and then some. And yet, none of those things has manifested in my life. I still haven’t made friends, despite living here for four years. No dates since 2017. While my authorship has gotten a little better, it is still nowhere near what I want it to be. I’ve been a published author since 2021, and I barely get any sales. I haven’t made back 2% of what I spend on being an author. And that has been year over year.

I’d be amped for the New Year and new opportunities only for them not to happen. By the time December rolled around, I was depressed and disappointed and wondering what the hell I could have done differently and why things just weren’t working out for me, especially because I was putting in the work/effort. I blamed myself a lot. The years just started to feel like Groundhog Day.

So, I am changing all of that this year. I didn’t eat the grapes. I had leftover laundry, and my underwear was turquoise as the clock moved from 11:59p to 12:00a.

I have not given up hope; however, I can’t keep putting myself in a position to continue to be depressed and disappointed anymore. At this point, I put my intentions in the air, and it is out of my hands.