Not goals.
Not resolutions.
Not things to hustle toward or prove.
Just desire.
I want a year that feels like exhale.
Not the loud kind.
Not the “I made it” kind that needs witnesses.
I want the quiet, heavy-lidded sigh that comes when your body finally believes it’s safe to rest.
I want to wake up most mornings without that familiar tightness in my chest, the one that asks what am I forgetting, who do I still owe, what might go wrong today? I want mornings that start soft, that feel unhurried. Light filtering through curtains. A cup of something warm in my hands, tea, coffee, whatever I’m in the mood for, sipped slowly, not gulped between anxiety and obligation. A body that stretches without pain. A mind that doesn’t sprint before my feet touch the floor.
I want to feel present in my life. Not catching up to it. Not narrating it from five steps behind. Actually here.
I want my nervous system to stop living like it’s under constant threat. I want calm to be my baseline, not a rare reward. I want my shoulders to drop without me having to remind them. I want my jaw unclenched. I want to stop holding my breath without realizing I’m doing it.
I want my body to feel like an ally again.
I want my body to feel like a place I enjoy living in. Not something to fix or punish or constantly manage. I want to feel strong without being hard. Soft without being weak. Comfortable in my skin. I want to move through the world in a body that feels light, strong, responsive.
I want clothes that touch me gently. Fabrics that breathe. Silhouettes that feel like they were made for this version of me. I want to dress for sensation, not validation. To choose things because they feel good against my body, because they move the way I move. I want to enjoy my body without negotiating with shame.
I want to hover around 60kg without obsessing, without counting, without bargaining with myself. I want food to feel nourishing and pleasurable, not moral. I want to eat well and often. Food that tastes good and love me back, warm breakfasts, crunchy salads, slow dinners that don’t leave me bloated or foggy.
Meals that feel nourishing, colorful, intentional. I want to savor flavors instead of rushing through them. To cook sometimes, order in sometimes, eat out when I feel like it, without guilt, without overthinking, without scarcity hanging over every bite.
I want to trust that there will always be more.
I want clear skin that looks like I’m well-rested and well-fed. I want hormones that aren’t constantly swinging the emotional temperature of my days. I want digestion that works quietly in the background, not loudly demanding attention. I want energy that lasts through the afternoon. I want to feel pretty without effort, and beautiful without performance.
I want a glow-up that’s less about aesthetics and more about ease. The kind of glow that comes from being well, not watched.
I want to feel at home in my femininity again, soft without being weak, sensual without being on display. I want to enjoy my body privately, for myself. The way lotion feels on warm skin. The pleasure of clean sheets. The luxury of an uninterrupted shower. The comfort of moving slowly and not apologizing for it.
I want my life with Adriel to feel full and ordinary in the best way.
I want to live with him. Really live with him. Not in fragments, not in guilt, not in catch-up mode. I want to walk him to school sometimes, comb his hair or help him button his shirt, pack lunches without rushing. I want to know his routines, his moods, his jokes, the things he’s into this month. I want to be available, not just physically, but emotionally.
I want to mother from joy, not exhaustion. From choice, not survival.
I want our home to feel safe and warm and lived-in. A place where he can laugh loudly, ask questions, spill things, be a child. I want him to grow up surrounded by evidence that life can be stable, that love can be consistent, that home doesn’t disappear overnight.
I want to be proud of the environment I’m raising him in. A good school. A calm neighborhood. A rhythm that supports him instead of stretching him thin. I want to watch him grow and feel present for it, not like I’m constantly torn between providing and being there.
I want a house that feels like a deep breath.
I want keys in my hand and certainty in my chest. I want a fully furnished home that doesn’t feel temporary or patched together. I want a proper cooker, a fridge that’s always stocked, a washing machine that hums in the background while life happens. I want an L-shaped sofa that invites naps and conversations and movie nights. Cushions you sink into. Curtains that soften the light.
I want art on the walls that feels timeless and intentional, not loud, not trendy, just beautiful. I want a space that reflects taste, calm, and self-respect. A home where everything has a place, and nothing feels rushed or borrowed. I want to walk through my door and feel my body relax automatically.
I want money to stop feeling dramatic.
I want to earn well, predictably and with room to expand. I want at least Ksh 350,000 coming in monthly without panic, without chasing, without that constant sense of “this could disappear.” I want money that arrives consistently and leaves gently, paying bills, funding joy, supporting growth.
I want to stop bracing for financial emergencies. I want to plan instead of react. I want to pay for things without flinching. To buy what I need without calculating fear. To choose quality over urgency. To save, invest and spend from a place of steadiness. I want to feel supported by my income, not chased by it or a test of my worth or resilience.
I want my work to feel aligned and profitable. I want ideas to come easily. Clients to find me naturally. Work that feels aligned with who I am now.
I want Garo Gift Shop to hum with daily orders. I want to wake up to notifications that feel exciting, not overwhelming. I want clients who value what I create, who trust my taste, who pay on time and refer others. I want the business to grow without draining me.
I want equipment that expands what’s possible, heat presses, printers, binding machines, tools that make creation smoother and faster. I want a physical store that feels intentional and welcoming, fully stocked, well-lit and properly set up. I want help. Employees who care, who show up, who allow me to step back and think bigger.
I want an office and workshop that feels like my creative headquarters. A place for blogging, designing, teaching, making and experimenting. A space that smells like coffee and paper and possibility. Somewhere I can host classes, share skills and build community. I want to work without chaos, without clutter, without feeling behind.
I want to feel proud of what I’m building. I want my workdays to end with energy still left in me. Enough to laugh. Enough to rest. Enough to enjoy my evenings instead of collapsing into them.
I want travel to become part of my rhythm, not a fantasy.
I want to board planes with ease. Window seats. Headphones on. I want to see Mombasa, Diani, Malindi, Zanzibar, Dubai, feel salt on my skin, sand under my feet, new ideas stirring. I want to travel for rest, for inspiration, for pleasure. At least once a month, I want to see something new. Eat something unfamiliar. Let my mind stretch.
I want to remember that life is bigger than my routines.
I want to romance my own life unapologetically.
I want solo dates that feel indulgent, walking through parks. Sitting by water. Trying new cafés just because the name sounds interesting. Buying myself flowers without justifying it.
I want to leave notes for myself. Small reminders. Kind words. Gentle encouragement written in my own handwriting. I want to celebrate my wins privately, deeply, without needing external permission.
I want love that feels secure.
I want a man who doesn’t confuse me. A man whose interest doesn’t flicker. Someone who shows up cleanly, consistently, kindly. I want to feel chosen, not chased after uncertainty. I want to be adored without performing strength or mystery.
I want gentleness. Doors opened. Dates planned without me prompting. Thoughtful gifts that show he listens, flowers on random days just because. A man who enjoys providing softness for me, who sees that as pleasure, not pressure.
I want attraction that feels grounded. I want to admire him, the way he carries himself, the way he thinks, the way he decides. I want compatibility in values, lifestyle, ambition. I want a partner who owns his life and welcomes me into it. Someone who supports my work, invests in my dreams and believes in my capacity.
I want someone who enjoys my softness and respects my boundaries. Someone who understands that consistency is romantic. I want intimacy that feels safe enough to be slow. Conversations that wander. Laughter that doesn’t need an audience. Touch that feels intentional, not transactional.
I want a man who loves Adriel naturally, not reluctantly. Someone who sees us as a unit, who plans with us in mind. Someone who wants a calm, beautiful life and knows how to build it.
I want to stop shrinking in love. I want to receive it fully. In 2026, I desire peace in my relationships. Not perfection. Peace. Clear communication. Mutual effort.
I want to give my parents ease.
I want to improve their living situation in ways that feel dignified and loving. A better house. Furniture that lasts. A finished home upcountry. I want to support them from overflow, not obligation. I want peace in my family story.
I want security that’s tangible.
I want a Toyota Hilux SR5 with cobalt blue exterior and tan interior. I want to sit high, feel safe, move through the world with confidence. I want a driver. Insurance handled. Taxes paid. No stress attached to mobility. I want to go where I want, when I want.
I want savings that don’t evaporate at the first inconvenience. At least Ksh 1,000,000 set aside, invested thoughtfully. I want to know that future me is being taken care of by present me.
More than anything, I want my life to feel intentional.
I want to stop surviving chapters I never meant to live in forever. I want to enjoy what I’m building while I’m building it. I want softness without stagnation. Growth without self-betrayal. Success that doesn’t cost me my health, my joy, or my relationships.
I want discernment that feels natural, not guarded. Knowing when to stay. Knowing when to leave. Trusting myself enough to act on what I feel without second-guessing it to death. I want to live slower without feeling behind.
I want to like my life, not someday, not hypothetically, but in the ordinary moments. Tuesday afternoons. Grocery shopping. Folding laundry. Sitting quietly.
In 2026, I desire a life that feels mine.
Not curated for approval.
Not shaped by fear.
Not dictated by old survival patterns.
I want to live from desire instead of defense.
I want to wake up and feel curious about my day.
To go to bed feeling satisfied, not because everything is perfect,
but because I showed up as myself.
I want a year that tastes like calm.
That feels like alignment.
That sounds like laughter in rooms I own.
I want 2026 to meet me well, and I want to meet it unafraid.
That’s my desire.
And I trust that wanting this, naming it, feeling it, honoring it, is already the beginning of receiving it.
Related: Thank You 2025
