The Year I Stopped Planning Who I Wanted to Be

Vanessa Harris
7 days ago
4 min read

Updated: 6 days ago

A few weeks ago, I found myself hovering over the purchase button for a new planner.

You know the feeling. That small rush of anticipation. The promise that this year, with the right system, everything might finally click. This one was digital, beautifully designed, full of hyperlinks and colour-coded sections. I could already imagine myself drawing in it with my Apple Pencil, perfectly curated pages, aesthetic routines, a life that looked as calm and intentional as the template itself.

I almost bought it.

And then I paused, credit card still in hand, and asked myself a quieter question.

What has actually worked for me in the past?

The answer wasn’t the one I wanted because what works for me isn’t especially pretty. It isn’t romantic. It doesn’t come with a learning curve or a sense of novelty. It is simple. Almost boring. And I already have it.

That moment changed the way I’m entering 2026.

Letting Go of the Plan to Become Someone Else

For most of my adult life, I’ve asked some version of the same question at the beginning of every year.

Who do I want to become?

It sounds reflective, even thoughtful. But for me, that question often carried an unspoken assumption that I was not quite there yet. That the person I wanted to be lived somewhere in the future, just beyond the reach of my current habits, routines, and capacity.

So I planned. And planned. And planned some more.

New systems. New notebooks. New apps. New structures designed to usher me toward a future version of myself who felt calmer, more disciplined, more accomplished, more at ease.

But somewhere along the way, I realized something important.

Planning to become someone was keeping me slightly disconnected from actually being her.

From Planning to Practising

This year, I’m doing something different. Instead of asking who I want to become, I’m asking a much more practical question.

What actions will get me closer to my goals?

Not in theory. Not in an ideal week that never quite materializes. But in the rhythm of a real life. What consistent actions embody the person I’ve always strived to become?

Who is she?

She shows up to her work consistently, even when it’s imperfect.
She moves her body because it keeps her grounded, not because she is chasing an outcome.
She writes even when the work feels unfinished.
She meditates often enough to stay connected, but not so rigidly that it becomes another obligation.
She leaves space for adventure, even when life feels full.

None of that requires a perfect planner.

It just requires practice.

The Goals I’m Living This Year

I still have goals for 2026. Clear and meaningful goals, but I’m re-framing the way that I approach them.

This year, I want to:

Make Ayana Flow net positive, not by pushing harder, but by treating it like the real, living business it already is.
Write the rough draft of my book, by showing up to the page regularly instead of waiting for the perfect conditions.
Complete my 200-hour yoga teacher training and register as a yoga teacher, by staying present with the process rather than rushing the outcome.
Meditate three to four times per week, as a way to stay connected to myself.
Strength train three to four times per week, because it supports my mental and physical resilience.
Plan one mini adventure each month, not as an escape from life, but as a reminder to stay curious within it.

None of these goals require reinvention. And none of them are unrealistic for me.

They will require practice, consistency, follow-through, and a willingness to return when I inevitably drift off course.

The System I’m Actually Using

I didn’t need a new system to support this shift. I already had one.

Over time, I’ve learned that what helps me most is being able to see my life clearly, without micromanaging it. I need a place where my work, movement, mental health, and creative goals can coexist without competing for attention.

In practice, that looks like a simple combination of my calendar and reminders apps, a paper notebook when needed, and my Notion Life Dash.

The Life Dash isn’t a productivity tool designed to optimize every hour. It’s a simple dashboard that helps me stay oriented toward what will actually move me closer to my goals. It shows me what matters. It offers feedback without judgment. And it allows me to notice patterns instead of obsessing over perfection.

Some weeks, it reflects momentum. Other weeks, it reflects rest.

Both are information, not failure.

*Life Dash Notion Template by Ayana Flow*

Choosing Simplicity Over Performance

Instead of pouring my creative energy into setting up a new planner, I did something much quieter.

I wrote my goals down by hand.
I gave my digital and physical space a gentle reset.
I cleared what felt time-consuming and kept what felt realistic.
And then I started living as the person I said I wanted to become, one day at a time.

No countdown. No dramatic declaration.

Just a series of small, grounded choices that align with the life I’m already living.

An Invitation

If you’re entering this year feeling the pull toward something quieter, slower, and more embodied, I want you to know you’re not doing it wrong.

You don’t need a perfect plan.

You don’t need aesthetic motivation.

You don’t need to earn your way into the life you want.

You can practise being her now.

And if you’re looking for a simple way to support that practice, The Life Dash is the system I’ll be using this year. Not because it promises transformation, but because it helps me stay honest, present, and aligned as I live.

This is the year I stopped asking who I was becoming.

And started living as her instead.

With lightness and curiosity,

Vanessa

If This Resonated…

If you’re in a season of transition, or finding yourself questioning the life you’ve built, the Flow Journal 2.0 was created as a quiet place to land. It’s not about fixing yourself, but about listening more closely to what’s already asking for your attention.

The Flow Journal 2.0 is meant to be a quiet companion, something to come back to when you’re ready to listen.