The Year Everything Quietly Aligned

When this year began, I was in Argentina.

I didn’t have a detailed plan. No rigid timeline. No pressure to define exactly where I was headed. What I did have was a quiet commitment to building stability, internally and externally, after a season of constant movement and reinvention.

That intention shaped everything that followed.

Over the course of this year, I moved through and landed in my 49th country. That number still catches me off guard when I say it out loud , not because of the travel itself, but because of what it represents. Each place added perspective. Each transition taught me something about what I need, what I value, and what no longer fits. Travel wasn’t the goal this year; clarity was.

I made decisions based less on urgency and more on how something felt in my body, my work, and my day-to-day life. I paid attention to what supported me and what drained me. I stopped forcing momentum and started choosing steadiness.

And somewhere along the way, things began to click.

This year wasn’t about spectacle. It was about alignment taking shape slowly in routines, relationships, work, and the way I move through the world now. I traveled, yes. But I also stayed present. I wrote consistently. I rebuilt trust with myself. I learned when to push and when to pause.

I showed up here every Tuesday. Through rebrands, transitions, long flights, quiet weeks, and big questions that didn’t always have immediate answers. That consistency mattered more than I realized when I started.

As I write this, I’m in Berlin, where I’ll be ringing in the New Year. It feels like a fitting place to pause - a city layered with history, reinvention, and reinvention again. A reminder that transformation doesn’t have to be loud to be meaningful.

As the year closes, I’m not carrying a long list of resolutions into the next one. I’m carrying clarity.

So for next year, my word is Alignment.

Alignment means choosing what fits instead of what impresses. It means letting go of what looks good on paper but feels heavy in real life. It means building a life where my work, health, relationships, and environment actually support each other - not compete for attention.

I don’t know every detail of what next year will bring. But I know the direction. I know how I want my days to feel. I know the standard I’m holding for my time, my energy, and the people I allow close.

That feels like enough.

If you’ve been reading along , whether you’ve replied, shared, or quietly followed, thank you. This space has mattered. Writing this newsletter has been a grounding point through a year that asked for both courage and restraint.

Here’s to closing the year with intention.
Here’s to trusting what’s aligning, even if it’s still unfolding.
And here’s to stepping into the next chapter without forcing it.

I’ll see you in the new year.

Après Me,
Sherita