Waking up to sunshine, melting snow, and temperatures warmer than expected brought an unexpected lift to my morning. It reminded me of something David McNally shared on How to SuperAge (https://youtu.be/UByP_9KShfY): finding one positive thought each day, no matter our circumstances, can shift us toward a happier, more content, more purposeful life.

I’ve lived by this philosophy for years. It keeps me grounded in what I can control—my thoughts. And when those thoughts become clouded by physical or emotional challenges, reaching for help is not weakness; it’s a choice toward clarity. I believe deeply in choosing the supports that help us see more clearly.

There’s a line from a familiar song that has always stayed with me: “On a clear day you can see forever…” That clarity—literal and emotional—is the foundation of purposeful living. Sometimes we just need someone to help us see what’s already right in front of us. A guide. A coach. A compassionate voice reminding us that perspective is powerful.

It has taken me many years to understand why holidays and special occasions have often felt heavy. Expectations—those storybook images we carry—set me up for disappointment when reality didn’t match the script. As a child, I was known as a crier, and disappointment only amplified the tears.

With age and a bit of earned wisdom, I’ve learned to soften those expectations and stay present. It’s not always easy, but it’s liberating.

This holiday season was gentle. Lighting the Chanukah candles brought me back to childhood—my dad reciting blessings, all of us singing “Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel.” Christmas was quiet and heartfelt, just time with my husband and simple connections with family through calls, texts, and social media. New Year’s didn’t need champagne or fanfare; preparing food for my husband and son and acknowledging the close of 2025 and the start of 2026 felt meaningful enough.

Now we return to “normal”—whatever that means. My work through podcasting, coaching, and blogging continues to give me purpose. But normal also includes guiding my older brother through his health challenges from more than a thousand miles away. It’s not simple, and it’s certainly not something any of us are trained for.

And I know I’m not alone. So many of you are supporting aging parents, spouses, siblings, or adult children. Often we learn as we go, and by the time we find one answer, three new questions appear. The system is complicated, and the emotional weight is real.

I’ve always said I was lucky with my parents and brothers. Our bond has been strong, loving, and full of passionate care. But that same level of care should come from our medical teams and our communities—and too often, it doesn’t.

Maybe that’s the path opening for me in 2026. A new avenue. A new purpose. A clearer day ahead.