A New Year, Same Fire
by: Macarena Corral, PsyD, LP
The calendar flips and everyone calls it a beginning. New year, new energy, new possibilities. But when I look around, the air feels the same. The same weight sits on my chest. The same problems trail behind us like shadows that didn’t reset at midnight. The world is still on fire (politically, socially, environmentally, emotionally) and none of it paused out of respect for January 1st.
There’s something quietly jarring about being told this is a fresh start when nothing feels fresh. The news still hurts. The systems are still broken. Personal struggles didn’t politely pack their bags and leave last year. We woke up in the new year carrying the old one inside us: old griefs, old fears, old exhaustion. It makes the usual “new year, new you” rhetoric feel hollow, like a performance we’re all expected to participate in whether we believe in it or not.
I have goals for this year. Real ones. Things I want to work toward, improve, build. And yet, alongside that ambition is a low, persistent sense of hopelessness. A quiet doubt that asks, What’s the point when so much is still burning?
But maybe that’s the lie we’ve been taught. Maybe hope isn’t about believing that everything will magically improve. Maybe it’s much smaller than that. Maybe hope is just the decision to keep going.
This year doesn’t feel like a clean slate. It feels like a continuation. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe this year isn’t about reinvention or dramatic transformation. Maybe it’s about honesty, about admitting that things are heavy, that motivation wavers, that the world feels overwhelming, and still choosing to take one step forward.
Not because we’re certain it will work out.
Not because the fire is gone.
But because stopping entirely would mean letting the fire win.
So, if this new year feels the same to you, if you’re tired, disillusioned, and unsure how to feel hopeful, know that you’re not alone. You are responding truthfully to the world as it is. And sometimes, continuing honestly in a burning world is its own quiet form of resistance.
Yes, the world feels heavy. Yes, not knowing what to say is normal. And you don’t have to carry it alone. We’re here when you’re ready. Learn more about nervous system support at CCH here. 🌿
Also consider the following journal prompts when you start to ask yourself, “what’s the point?”
What does “enough” look like today, not my best day, just today?
· What am I expecting of myself that I wouldn’t expect of someone I love?
When do I feel most like myself, even for a moment?
What feels worth addressing, even if it’s small?
· What did I think this season of my life would look like, and how is it different?
What am I grieving right now?
