Four Ways I'm Being Kinder to Myself in 2026

An overdue resolution from someone who hates New Year's resolutions

Photo by nasim dadfar on Unsplash

2025 has been a rough year for me.

Although there were many highs — making progress on my book, writing this newsletter, meeting new people — there were also many lows. A health setback. Not finishing my book. Struggling to monetize. The uncertainty of what the future holds.

But perhaps the roughest part of this year has been the internal struggle. My inner dialogue has been, let’s just say, not great. This has made an already difficult year even harder to deal with.

Although I’m not a fan of New Year’s resolutions — even going so far as to swear them off completely — for 2026, I’m changing my tune. In the year ahead — and hopefully, beyond — I’m resolving to be kinder to myself.

Here are four ways I plan to do this. I hope these will inspire you to do the same.

1. Focus more on the good, less on the bad

Tony Robbins says, “We don’t experience life. We experience the life we focus on.”

Every moment presents us with a choice. We can choose to dwell on the good things (love, faith, friends, family, our goals and achievements) and feel better about the life we're living. Or, we can choose to dwell on the bad (setbacks, shortcomings, struggles, health challenges) and spiral emotionally.

Of course, this isn't meant in absolute terms. To focus only on the good veers into toxic positivity, maybe even delusion. To focus only on the bad leads to bitterness and despair.

Rather, I see this as a spectrum. If we can focus more on the good than the bad, then generally speaking, we’ll feel more optimistic, while still anchoring ourselves in reality.

My problem is, in 2025, I focused too much on the bad things — everything that went wrong, what I’ve lost, and what I don’t have — and not enough on the good. Which is a shame, because, as frustrating as my life is sometimes, I have so much to be thankful for.

In the new year, I resolve to focus more on love and less on what I lack. More on the worthwhile goals I hope to achieve and less on what I haven’t achieved. More on the path I’m traveling and less on everyone else’s path.

And if it means reviewing my Personal Highlight Reel every single morning, so be it.

2. Separate reality from my impressions of reality

It’s one thing to focus on the bad. It’s another to let it tear us to pieces emotionally. As the philosopher Epictetus said in The Enchiridion: “It’s not events that disturb us — it’s the meaning we attach to them that does.”

Each event, objectively, is just an event. Each thought is just a thought. But it’s how we interpret these events and thoughts that dictate our peace of mind. This doesn’t mean we become emotionless robots that cease to grieve the loss of a loved one, feel fear after a medical diagnosis, or lament financial ruin. Rather, it’s a reminder that how we interpret difficult events can add layers of suffering beyond the event itself.

And this is where I really struggled this year.

Each time I experienced a setback, or I dwelled on something “wrong” with my life, my mind went haywire. When I had my health setback earlier this year, I catastrophized, envisioning a future of pain and suffering. When I got rejected from two different jobs I was sure I’d get, I let the disappointment consume me. When I thought about where I was in life — or more accurately, where I wasn’t — I despaired over how stuck I felt, which sent my anxiety through the roof.

But upon further reflection, and with time and distance, I see that I made things worse than they needed to be. The health challenge wasn’t just difficult news — I turned the potential for pain and suffering into a certainty. My job rejections weren’t just setbacks — I let them devastate my confidence and self-worth. The lack of progress on my goals wasn’t just objective data — it became an indictment of my work ethic and intelligence.

Was it okay to feel negative emotions? Absolutely. But after a certain point, these emotions went from productive processing to destructive rumination.

In 2026, I resolve to view events through a more objective lens and to interrogate my thoughts more. At minimum, I need to ask myself: “Am I making things worse by how I’m reacting?”

Life is already hard enough.

3. Less catastrophizing

To quote another Stoic philosopher, Seneca: “We suffer more often in imagination than in reality.”

My imagination is an asset. It has helped me excel as a writer, articulate my dreams, and plan out how to achieve those dreams.

But my imagination is also great at envisioning worst-case scenarios. By dwelling on these outcomes — and not my power to prepare for or perhaps even prevent them from occurring — I make myself miserable. Not to mention, some of these catastrophes will always be outside my control, and no amount of worrying can change that.

Catastrophizing has caused me a lot of unnecessary suffering this year. Fortunately, I know what helps — I just need to do it.

In the past, when I’ve been consumed by worry, I’d write down my fears, then check in a few months later to see if they’d materialized. Some did, but most didn’t. I found this to be a useful exercise to show myself, objectively, that much of what I worry about fails to come to pass.

Of course, some bad things will happen—that's life. No one lives forever. Peace isn’t permanent. And not everyone will like our creative work or treat us with respect. But even proving to myself that some catastrophes never materialize gives me hope that for all the disasters my mind conjures up, events often play out differently.

This is not about tempting fate; it’s about comparing imagination to reality, and acknowledging the gap.

I’ve already begun making my list, which I plan to review weekly.

4. Less self-criticism, more self-compassion

The heart of the matter.

Most of the time, my inner critic blabbers away, and most of the time, I ignore him, the same way you tune out the sound of an air conditioner after a while.

But on the tough days when I’m feeling low, or something bad has happened, I hand my inner critic the microphone. And he’s vicious. He points out my faults, flaws, and insecurities, and reminds me of all my worst moments. Over and over again.

It’s okay to be critical of our performance or point out mistakes in the spirit of self-improvement. But, as I’ve experienced firsthand, this shouldn’t come at the expense of our mental health. To go overboard with criticism and self-recrimination is both counterproductive and cruel.

If I’m being honest, I’ve been awful to myself this year. And it has to stop.

I need to balance out negative self-talk with positive affirmations. I need to remind myself of my best moments. But more than anything, I need to think about what I’d say to a friend or family member if they were in my shoes. After all, I’m kind and compassionate to them — so why can’t I be kind and compassionate to myself? I’m worthy of love, too.

My goal in 2026 is to wrestle the microphone back from my inner critic and replace him with a soothing, supportive voice. It’s time for Kind Chris to make a comeback.

---

I’ll keep you updated on how my self-kindness journey goes in 2026. Just writing this piece has already helped me immensely.

I hope you’ll join me on this resolution. The world needs more kindness — being kind to yourself is a great place to start.

And, right as I’m about to send this out, I just saw this great reminder from author Brad Stulberg. I hope, someday, I can look back on 2025 with similar pride.