I was sitting at my desk, staring down another New Year’s resolution. My journal was open, a pen in my hand, but I couldn’t figure out what to write. I kept thinking, What am I even trying to fix this time?
I reached for my coffee, thinking maybe another hit of caffeine would help, and as I stirred in more sugar, my hand froze.
The spoon I was holding—it was one of my favourites. I’d picked it up at an antique fair in England years ago. It used to shine so brightly, catching the light just so, but now… now it was dull, the once-ornate details blurred under a film of tarnish.
I sat there for a moment, just staring at it, and then it hit me:
This is exactly how I feel.
I don’t feel broken, but I do feel dull. Worn down by life, by the constant busyness and noise of it all. The edges of who I am—the dreams, the passions, the joy—feel like they’ve been blurred over time. It’s not that they’re gone, but they’ve been buried under layers of… everything else.
And that’s when I realized: I don’t need to change. I don’t need to reinvent myself.
I just need to polish.
The Truth About Tarnish
That’s the thing about silver, isn’t it? No matter how beautiful or intricate or dazzling it was when it was new, time and life dull its shine.
But here’s the truth: that tarnish isn’t a sign that the silver is broken or worthless. It’s just what happens. Exposure. Use. Time.
Handled too much—or maybe not enough—the details start to blur, the brilliance fades. And so, we push it aside. We stop using it. We forget how beautiful it was to begin with.
It’s the same with us.
We start out bright—our dreams, our passions, our relationships all shining with potential. We care for them at first. We marvel at how alive they make us feel.
But then… life happens.
Not all at once, but slowly. Days blur into weeks. The glow fades. The dreams that once felt so exciting now seem distant—or worse, like something we barely recognize.
The spark isn’t gone. It’s just buried—under doubt, under exhaustion, under the weight of all the “shoulds” we pile on ourselves. We settle into routines. We stop reaching for joy. And somewhere along the way, we forget how to shine.
We live. We tarnish.
Polishing Ourselves Is an Act of Love
But here’s the good news: just like silver, the shine is still there.
Polishing doesn’t create beauty—it uncovers it. It’s not about adding anything new; it’s about gently clearing away what doesn’t belong. The dust of self-doubt. The grime of comparison. The layers of “good enough” that hide who we really are.
And just like polishing silver, this isn’t about perfection. It’s about care. It’s about giving ourselves the time, the love, and the space to breathe again.
So this year, I’m not chasing after a shiny “new me.” I don’t need an overhaul. I’m not broken. Instead, I’m going to focus on reclaiming what’s already here—the dreams, the joys, the parts of me I’ve let slip aside.
Polish in Practice: My Own Steps
I’m not looking for a big, dramatic change. I don’t need it. But I am tired. Life has worn me down a little, and I’ve lost my way in some places. So this year, I’m not trying to transform—I’m trying to restore.
I’ll start by going back to what matters most. I’ll remind myself of the values that ground me, reconnect with the people who’ve always been my biggest supporters (thank you, Ann), and find ways to bring my energy and vitality back to life. This isn’t about becoming someone new—it’s about caring for who I already am. Polish.
Instead of sitting here and worrying that my passion is gone forever, I’ll remind myself that it’s still there. It’s just a little buried under the grime left behind by doubt and resilience. My spark hasn’t disappeared—it’s just waiting for me to give it space again. To slow down, to breathe, to remember what used to bring me joy. Polish.
I don’t need to blow up my business plan or come up with a brand-new idea to feel inspired again. Last year’s plan was good—it still makes sense. I just got distracted. So this year, I’ll dust it off, reread it with fresh eyes, and remind myself why it excited me in the first place. It’s all still there, waiting for me to pay attention. Polish.
I’ll go back to the dance classes that made me feel alive, where I moved my body because it felt good instead of because it was an obligation. I’ll pull out the favourite clothes I haven’t worn in ages, the ones that make me feel most like me. I’ll call the friends I’ve been meaning to reach out to—the ones who remind me who I am and make me laugh until my stomach hurts. I’ll cook the meals I love, not the ones that impress someone else, but the ones that remind me what comfort tastes like.
Polish. Polish. Polish. Polish.
I don’t need to go searching for joy. It’s been here all along. I just need to give it some air. Polish.
The Courage to Polish
None of these things are broken. I’m not broken.
They worked. They shined. They made me feel alive. Life just happened, and they got a little tarnished.
The truth is, it’s not about fixing. It’s not about changing. It’s about reconnecting. Remembering. Bringing attention back to the things that already work, already light us up, already make us feel like ourselves.
This year, I’m choosing to believe that I’m already enough. That the beauty I’m looking for—the brilliance I miss—is still here, waiting for me to take it off the shelf, give it a little care, and let it shine again.
Sometimes, though, polishing ourselves takes more than just pausing. It takes intention. It takes space. It takes the courage to step away from the grind of daily life and give yourself the time to look closely. That’s why I’ve fallen so deeply in love with retreats—they’re not about fixing yourself. They’re about giving yourself permission to see what’s already there.
When you give yourself the time to reflect, to breathe, and to focus on the parts of you that need attention, the shine always comes back.
A Call to Polish
So, as you think about your New Year’s resolutions, take a breath. Let go of the pressure to change yourself, to fix what was never broken. You are not wrong. You don’t need a complete overhaul.
You’re just a little tarnished. Life does that. It always does that.
But the silver is still there, waiting to shine. All it needs is a little polish.
So this year, maybe try less fixing and more reclaiming.
Maybe a little less change. A little more polish.
And if polishing yourself feels like something you want to dive deeper into, there’s always a space for you at one of my retreats—maybe even this May in England, where a grand manor home and a few kind butlers might just remind us all how to shine again.
If you want more from life, let's work together.