Another year, another fresh start! Or, if you're anything like the incredible, empathetic, and sometimes slightly over-committed souls I work with, maybe it feels like another year to try and squeeze into someone else's idea of 'success.' We've all been there, haven't we? Pen in hand, ready to write down those shiny new year goals, only to find ourselves listing things we think we should want, rather than what truly lights us up. It's like trying to bake a cake with a recipe written by your well-meaning (but slightly misguided) Aunt Becky – you end up with something edible, but it's not your masterpiece. This year, let's ditch Aunt Mildred's recipe and bake your own delicious destiny.

There comes a moment in many people’s lives when change stops feeling like growth and starts feeling like danger. A person might hear a quiet urge to rest, or try something new, or take back space they gave away too easily—but instead of relief, the body tenses. Muscles tighten. Guilt rises like heat. There is a magnetic pull toward the familiar, even when the familiar has outlived its usefulness.

Most people explain this away by blaming themselves. They call it laziness, weakness, or a lack of discipline. But the body is rarely that simple or unkind. What looks like a failure of will is often an old survival strategy waking up on cue.

Your phone buzzes. You glance down, expecting the usual—a friend, a notification, another thing demanding your attention. But this message is different. It's from her. The version of you who's already walked through the fire you're standing in front of right now. The one who knows how this chapter ends.

What does she say?

As we step into a new year, most of us are either drowning in regret about what we didn't accomplish or white-knuckling our way through another list of resolutions we'll abandon by February. But what if this year could be different? Not because you're finally going to "get it together," but because you're ready to integrate who you've already become with who you're meant to be.

This isn't about starting over. It's about weaving together.

What if 2025 was the year you finally stopped saying 'yes' when your whole body was screaming 'no'?

Not because you learned some new productivity hack or willpower trick. But because you actually rewired the part of you that believes your worth depends on how useful you are to everyone else.

As this year winds down, you might be feeling it—that familiar mix of hope and heaviness. Hope that next year will be different. Heaviness because you've tried before, and the old patterns always seem to creep back in. The people-pleasing. The self-doubt. The exhaustion that comes from always being the one who bends.

I'm an avid reader. I read over 200 books a year—mostly fiction, mostly romance. Dark mafia, morally gray characters, the kind of stories where everyone's a little broken and no one apologizes for it. But once in a while, I sneak in a non-fiction book to help me understand myself better. I like to research psychology, sociology, topics in personal development. Not because I'm noble or disciplined, but because I genuinely want to know how humans work.

This year, I read twelve non-fiction books. And here are my thoughts about each.

I've been coaching people-pleasers for years now. I know the pattern intimately—the chronic over-functioning, the compulsive yes, the exhaustion that comes from holding everyone else's emotional weather. I've helped hundreds of clients build boundaries, reclaim their confidence, and get unstuck from the people-pleasing loop. I know this work inside and out.

This year, I read twelve non-fiction books. And here are my thoughts about each.

I didn't set out to read these twelve books this year. I set out to stop feeling crazy.

You know that specific flavor of exhaustion that comes from being the capable one? The one who can handle it, who doesn't need to be asked twice, who somehow always ends up holding everyone else's emotional weather? That was me. And somewhere around February, after yet another boundary I set dissolved like sugar in water, I realized something: I didn't have a discipline problem. I had a knowledge problem.

I didn't know why my body said yes when my brain screamed no. I didn't know why setting boundaries felt like jumping off a cliff. I didn't know why being "self-aware" hadn't actually made me any less exhausted.

So I stopped looking for hacks and started looking for mechanisms. I wanted to understand the biology of safety, the physics of influence, the architecture of a boundary that actually holds. What I found changed not just how I coach—it changed how I exist in the world.

Below isn't just a bibliography. It's a map of the human operating system, traced in the margins of books I didn't just read but interrogated. Here's what I learned, and how it made me a better coach—and a much less exhausted human.

Life often feels like wading through thick fog. You know you want to move forward, but the path ahead feels murky, and you are not always sure who can help you see clearly. You might have heard about coaching, therapy, mentoring, or advising, and it is easy to lump them all together. But knowing the difference can be the key to finding the exact support you need to finally break free and build the life you truly want.

As a people-pleaser, you have probably spent a lifetime listening to everyone else's advice, adapting to their expectations, and putting their needs before your own. This has left you feeling disconnected from your own voice, your own desires, and your own path. So, when you consider seeking help, the old patterns can kick in. You might ask, "What should I do? Who should I listen to?" This self-assessment is designed to help you listen to yourself and understand what kind of support truly aligns with where you are and where you want to go.

If you’re the one everyone leans on, the one who steps in to smooth things over, calm tempers, or solve problems no one asked you to solve—you might be living in the “fixer” role. And if you’re reading this, I imagine you’re exhausted by it.

I know that place intimately. I spent years believing it was my job to hold everyone else’s emotions, to make things okay. I thought if I could just keep the peace, hold the container, anticipate needs—then I’d finally feel safe, worthy, or loved. The truth? The more I carried, the heavier and lonelier it became.

You’ve smiled when you wanted to cry. Said yes when every part of you whispered no. You’ve made yourself small, agreeable, flexible—all in the name of being liked, needed, or accepted. On the outside, it might look like you’ve got it together. But on the inside, there’s a quiet exhaustion. A sense of disconnect from your own needs. A subtle ache that says: something’s missing.

Most people don’t wake up one day and suddenly have their dream life. They don’t stumble into confidence, fulfillment, or healthy relationships by accident. Change isn’t something that happens to you—it’s something you create. And real transformation doesn’t happen overnight. It’s not a single “aha” moment that suddenly makes everything different. Instead, personal growth is a process—a series of intentional steps that move you closer to the life you actually want.

What no one tells you about people-pleasing behavior is that unless it’s coming from a place of kindness, you are manipulating people and situations to gain approval, avoid conflict, and maintain a sense of control. You see, people-pleasing isn't harmless. It’s a quiet, insidious drain on your energy, happiness, and self-esteem. And the cost is not worth the illusion.

Setting boundaries without guilt is one of the most empowering steps you can take to reclaim your time and energy. Have you ever found yourself agreeing to something, even though every fiber of your being was screaming 'no'? If you’re a recovering people-pleaser, you know how hard it can be to set boundaries without feeling that pang of guilt.

Picture this: You’re at a bustling networking event, surrounded by a sea of confident voices and animated conversations. As you scan the room, you can’t help but feel like an outsider, wondering how you’re supposed to fit in or even be noticed. As one of many introverts in an extroverted world, it’s not that you don’t have valuable things to say, but in an environment like this, your quiet nature feels more like a barrier than a strength.