The Friday before Christmas, when all through my Teams,
Not a task was quite finished, not even in dreams,
My brain did its own review, unofficial, unplanned,
With a Start, Stop, Continue list, typed one-handed.
Start: leave margin. Start breathing between every sprint.
Start guarding my calendar like it holds my last inch.
Start saying, “Not this week,” with a warm, steady tone,
Start building Plan B while the road still feels known.
Start asking one question when a “yes” feels too sweet:
Will this serve my future, or steal all my sleep?
Continue: the work that still fits, even under demand,
A job that I like, and I’m good at, and glad.
Continue: a life I am proud of, built brick after brick,
Held up by good people and choices that stick.
Continue: friends who feel like family, chosen on purpose,
Because some of us build home with a different surface.
Continue: gratitude, even when Q4 gets loud,
Because I built something sturdy, and yes, I’m still proud.
Stop: the overcommitment in professional clothes,
The rigid routine that calls itself “how it goes.”
Stop treating my energy like its endless supply,
Stop stacking “small favors” until weeks start to sigh.
Stop the old longing for things I once boxed away,
Those wishes that tap on the window each day.
They show up in tinsel and hopeful disguise,
While logic rolls over and closes its eyes.
And stop feeling broken when grief comes around,
For those no longer here but still close on the ground.
That ache is not failure. It is love that persists.
It is proof I was lucky, and still somehow miss.
Now, for the plot twist, the part we don’t script:
Sometimes you meet someone and, instantly, click.
Not romance, not drama. Just gravity, bright,
Like finding your footing in unfamiliar light.
It’s strange how a new vibe can feel heavy with more,
Like a song you forgot but still knows every chord.
So, you smile like you’re fine, and you laugh like it’s small,
While your heart does a thing you did not plan at all.
You’ll file it away with the rest of the year,
A bright little moment that felt oddly clear,
Not tragedy, not prophecy, not something to chase,
Just proof you’re still human, still warm in this place.
So, you tighten your scarf, and you laugh at the plot,
Because feelings are bold, but your life is… a lot.
And you walk into Friday with eyes on the prize,
While peace and a little audacity quietly rise.
In the comments: what’s on your Start, Stop, Continue list?
And what are you protecting before 2026 gets ambitious?
