A New Year’s Letter on Reflection, Growth, and Showing Up Clearly

Over the past 15 years - maybe even longer - I’ve drifted away from sending Christmas or New Year’s cards. Some years I just didn’t feel up for it. Maybe things weren’t going well. Maybe I was too busy. Maybe I didn’t feel like sharing.

That said, I genuinely love receiving them. I love the pictures. I love the year-in-review updates. I love being reminded that I’m still a part of my friends’ and family’s lives, even when we don’t see or talk as often as we’d like. So this isn’t about disliking reflection - it’s more about knowing when I had the energy to offer my own.

As 2025 came to a close, I found myself thinking… maybe this is the year. Maybe this is the year I do a New Year’s recap or letter. And honestly, it wasn’t until I started reading other people’s reflections that I finally sat down to write my own as a blog post versus a card to send.

At the beginning of this year, I returned to journaling after nearly five years of doing it so sporadically that I’d eventually tear pages out and toss them. A January 2nd entry followed by one dated November 11th doesn’t feel like much of a journal. It feels more like a time capsule of avoidance.

So why journal at all?

For me, it’s about organizing my thoughts - bringing clarity to what’s really bothering me and what’s genuinely exciting me and prayer. It’s not all negative, though if I’m not careful, it can lean that way. That’s never my intention. And it raises an interesting question: do I want my journal - or my words - to be my legacy?

That question has been sitting with me.

We spend our lives learning - through experiences that unfold right in front of us and through education we intentionally seek out. I’ve learned from books, from people, and from life itself. And at a certain point, something shifts. You don’t just want to learn anymore. You want to share what you’ve learned.

I truly believe we’re here to help others in one way or another. I always have. I’ve been drawn to those kinds of roles my entire career. For the past ten plus years, that calling has taken shape in the financial industry - evolving into financial planning and advising.

Looking back on 2025, one of the things I’ve enjoyed most has been working with firefighters - and, though less frequently, police officers as well. These relationships matter to me. And because they matter, I’ve had to sit with a recurring frustration.

One of the frustrations I continue to sit with is this: even though I feel respected, heard, and often regarded as a financial “expert,” I still hear of plan participants seeking out another advisor - especially when it comes to life insurance conversations or as they approach retirement.

That leads to some honest soul-searching.

How am I not showing up clearly enough for my plan participants?

How can I better communicate that I don’t only handle deferred compensation?

Where is the disconnect?

These questions are where many of my conversations with my sister on the podcast originate. They’re also what drive this blog. And yes, part of this reflection means asking myself whether remnants of imposter syndrome still surface from time to time.

And while I don’t truly feel that anymore - I’ve done the work, I know my job, and I’m good at it - I do wonder whether moments of hesitation still come through in ways I don’t always see.

At this stage of my career, I know my role isn’t just to provide information - it’s to guide people through decisions, uncertainty, and transitions, not only where they are today, but all the way into and through retirement.

Maybe this reflection isn’t about cards or journals or even professional frustrations. Maybe it’s about alignment - between who I know I am, the value I bring, and how clearly that comes across to others.

As I step into a new year, I don’t have everything figured out. But I do know this: growth doesn’t come from avoiding reflection. It comes from sitting with it, learning from it, and letting small, intentional changes compound over time.

And maybe that’s the real New Year’s letter after all - not a summary of accomplishments, but a quiet recommitment to showing up clearly, consistently, and with purpose.

Thanks for taking a moment to reflect with me.

Until next time,

Shannon