My Word for 2026: Secure

I move from security, not fear.

This is the first year I’ve ever done this.

I’ve set goals before. Plenty of them. I’ve made plans, lists, timelines, and promises to myself about what the year ahead would look like. But I’ve never chosen a word to guide me through an entire year.

That changed recently, when a beautiful writer friend of mine, Gianna, shared a prompt on Instagram asking her followers to reflect on what their word for the coming year might be. Something about it stopped me in my scroll. It felt gentle. Intentional. Grounded in a way that traditional resolutions rarely are.

I loved the concept immediately.

So I sat with it. I let myself think not just about what I want to achieve in 2026, but how I want to feel while moving through it.

The word that kept returning — quietly, insistently — was secure.

What “Secure” Means to Me

At first glance, secure might seem like an understated choice. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t shout ambition or transformation. But the more I reflected on it, the more I realised just how much strength this word holds — and how deeply it reflects the year I’m choosing to create.

For a long time, I believed progress had to come from pressure. That growth required urgency. That ambition needed anxiety to fuel it.

I’ve spent years pushing myself forward through force, self-criticism, and the constant feeling of being behind. 2026 is different.

Secure means I am safe enough to be soft and strong enough to keep going.

It means moving forward from self-trust rather than fear. It means allowing patience without worrying that I’ll lose momentum. It means knowing that consistency doesn’t have to be cruel to be effective.

Security, I’ve learned, isn’t about settling. It’s about stability — the kind that allows you to build something that actually lasts.

Secure Isn’t Passive — It’s Grounded

There’s a common misconception that once you feel secure, you stop striving. That calm dulls ambition.

I don’t believe that at all.

A secure version of me still has clear, tangible goals for 2026:

• Paying off my debts

• Setting a publishing date for Bloomed

• Finishing the second book

• Rebuilding my fitness in a way that respects my body

• Making sure my dogs receive the care and attention they need

The difference isn’t what I’m working toward — it’s how I’ll pursue it.

Not frantically. Not from a place of proving my worth. Not by abandoning myself the moment things get hard.

Security allows me to play the long game. To show up steadily, even on the quiet days, even when progress feels slow or invisible.

Security Is a Nervous System Choice

Choosing secure is also an internal commitment.

It’s choosing regulation over reaction. Presence over panic. Trust over urgency.

When I feel secure, I write better. I train more consistently. I make clearer decisions. I’m kinder to myself when things don’t go to plan.

Security gives me permission to slow down without stopping — and that distinction matters.

Secure Boundaries, Secure Progress

A secure year also comes with stronger boundaries. Not walls, but foundations.

It looks like:

• Saying no without guilt

• Resting without needing to justify it

• Letting things take the time they need

• Not chasing validation or timelines that don’t belong to me

Security allows me to stay devoted to my goals without being consumed by them. It reminds me that ambition and compassion don’t have to cancel each other out.

The Kind of Growth I Want in 2026

2026 isn’t about dramatic reinvention or overnight transformation.

It’s about:

• Gentle persistence

• Sustainable habits

• Quiet confidence

• Trusting myself to follow through

It’s about knowing I’m capable even when things feel slow. About allowing softness without losing my edge. About growing from a place of safety, not survival.

My reminder for the year is simple:

I move from security, not fear.

And on the days I need it even more:

I am safe to grow.

Carrying This Word Forward

I don’t expect every day in 2026 to feel calm or easy. Life doesn’t work that way. But when things wobble — when doubt creeps in or progress feels invisible — I have a word I can come back to.

Secure.

A promise to myself that I don’t need to rush. That I don’t need to punish myself to succeed. That I can trust the process — and myself — enough to keep going.

This is the first year I’ve chosen a word to guide me. And it feels like the right place to begin.

This is the year I build slowly, intentionally, and with care.

This is the year I choose to feel secure.