E53 Section 1 Intro
Welcome back to Part 2 of our December planning series.
Last week, we talked about planning 2026 like a maker — not a corporation — and you walked away with something most people skip entirely: a realistic sense of your actual capacity.
And now that you know how much space you actually have,
today we’re going to look backward before we look forward.
Not in a “review your numbers and color-code your spreadsheets” kind of way…
but in a maker-friendly way — the kind that pays attention to patterns, energy, habits, and those quiet wins that don’t show up on paper.
Because most people enter the new year already feeling behind.
Not because they set the wrong goals —
but because they never stopped to ask,
“What did this past year actually teach me?”
So in today’s episode, we’re going to look at:
• What worked in 2025 (not what was perfect — what actually worked)
• What felt heavy or misaligned
• What repeated itself in ways worth paying attention to
• What quietly grew when you weren’t look ing
• And what these clues are trying to tell you about 2026
Think of this as the calm, honest version of a year-end review — the kind that helps you make better decisions without overwhelming yourself.
Once you know your capacity — the actual space your life can hold — the next step is to look back at the year with a little more honesty and a lot less judgement.
And the first thing I want to say is this:
Your emotions are data.
They’re not random or dramatic. They’re not “overreactions.”
They’re information.
So let’s start with the quiet data — the stuff your spreadsheets don’t capture.
What actually felt good this year?
Not what looked good.
Not what would impress anyone.
Just… what felt good when you were in it.
For me, it was the creative work itself — the hands-on, fabric-in-my-hands kind of work.
During a year that was heavier on the health front (for me), that creative space became a real refuge.
And when I stepped into shows, or talked with people in person, I felt that spark again.
Every time someone replied to an email with their own insight or story — it reminded me there are actual humans out there listening. That connection matters.
I want you to think about this as your takeaway:
If something refills you, that’s information.
If something drains you, that’s information.
Those moments of “this feels right” are not random.
They’re directional.
They’re pointing toward the work that actually nourishes you — and the work worth carrying into 2026.
So, I want you to ask yourself:
What felt genuinely good this year?
Not perfect. Not impressive. Just good.
And then — what felt heavy?
This is where the real gold is.
Because heaviness is feedback, not failure.
For me, a lot of the online side of my business felt heavy this year.
Low engagement. Audiences who loved to collect free resources but weren’t taking action.
It started to feel like I was pouring into a system that wasn’t pouring anything back.
Maybe you felt something similar — posting endlessly on Instagram with no response… listing things on Etsy that just sit there… offering help that no one uses… feeling like you’re shouting into the wind.
Here’s what I want you to hear:
If your audience only shows up for what’s free, that’s data — not a personal flaw.
If something worked technically but still felt heavy, that’s data.
If you had to talk yourself into something every week, that’s data.
Heaviness usually means one of three things:
1. The season for that thing has ended.
Sometimes something that used to fit… doesn’t anymore. Not because you did anything wrong, but because you’ve outgrown it.
Creative work has seasons just like anything else.
A product, an offer, or even a rhythm that made perfect sense two years ago can feel completely wrong today.
When the season ends, the work gets heavier — even if nothing external changed.
That heaviness is your cue that it’s okay to release it, or reshape it, without guilt.
2. The container is wrong.
Meaning, sometimes the idea is right, but the format isn’t.
Maybe your work shines in person, but you’ve been trying to force it to sell online.
Maybe your pricing is solid, but the platform you’re using attracts bargain hunters.
Maybe you’re posting endlessly on social media, when your audience actually buys at markets or through word of mouth.
When the container is wrong, the effort goes up and the return goes down.
It’s not that the product shouldn’t exist — it just needs a better environment or a better audience to thrive. That’s not failure. That’s misalignment.
3. Your energy has shifted — and you’re allowed to shift with it.
Creative work evolves as you evolve.
If something felt harder this year than it used to, that’s not a moral issue — it’s a clue.
Your interests change. Your capacity changes. Your needs change.
And when your energy shifts, trying to force yourself into the old version of your business will always feel like dragging a boulder uphill.
Heaviness is often your signal that it’s time to step toward the work that actually feels alive… not the work you feel obligated to keep carrying.
Once you understand your real capacity, the heaviness often makes more sense. Sometimes the problem wasn’t the project — it was that you simply didn’t have the space for it— emotionally, creatively, or logistically.
So, your next question is this:
What felt heavy this year, and why?
Because heaviness is not something to push through.
It’s something to pay attention to.
Now right alongside heaviness, there’s another kind of quiet data we tend to ignore:
the things we avoided.
Avoidance gets a bad reputation.
We hear words like lazy, unmotivated, not disciplined enough — but avoidance is almost never about discipline.
Avoidance is information.
If you avoided something for an entire year, that means one of two things:
1, The cost outweighed the return, or 2, It wasn’t aligned with the kind of work you actually want to be doing.
That’s it.
No drama. No moral judgment. Just information.
For me, this showed up clearly.
There were things I could have done — like jumping onto YouTube or setting up a whole new online teaching system — and I simply did not do them. Not because I don’t know how. Not because I’m afraid of the work.
But because the return didn’t match the effort.
If I’m going to spend hours filming, editing, troubleshooting lighting, and teaching over the noise of an industrial machine… the outcome has to be worth it. And this year, it wasn’t.
I also avoided putting more energy into online workshops and free content containers that weren’t creating real engagement. That wasn’t laziness. That was clarity.
And I want you to take this to heart:
If you’ve avoided something all year, you’re not “behind.”
You’re not “unmotivated.”
You’re not failing, or lazy, or procrastinating.
You’re just might be paying attention.
You’re noticing where your energy actually wants to go — and where it absolutely does not.
So ask yourself:
What did you avoid this year — and why do you think you avoided it?
Because avoidance points you toward one of your most honest truths:
If something never managed to naturally call to you… maybe it’s not meant to shape your 2026.
The next layer of quiet data shows up in the patterns — the things that repeated themselves this year whether you meant for them to or not.
Repetition is a compass.
It’s one of the easiest ways to see where your business or creative practice is naturally trying to go.
For me, the patterns were pretty unmistakable.
One of the biggest was the difference between online and in-person energy.
Online, the pattern was: lots of curiosity, not a lot of follow-through.
In person, the pattern was the opposite: people were engaged, invested, asking questions, and actually taking action on the help I gave them.
Another pattern that kept showing up was how often people complimented my teaching and my problem-solving — specifically when they were interacting directly with me.
I can look at a garment, a project, a construction issue and immediately understand what’s happening and how to fix it. I’ve always been able to do that, and this year reminded me—again—that this gift shows up strongest with direct interaction, not in a pdf or a video.
That’s a pattern worth paying attention to.
And there were internal patterns too — the ones nobody sees from the outside.
I noticed how strong my systems still are.
How quickly I can move from one task to another.
How easily I can deliver projects when the workflow is right.
That rhythm is second nature to me. It’s a real strength, and it shows me the kind of work and environment I function best in.
So here’s the lesson underneath all of this:
Look at where the momentum naturally happens in your creative practice or business.
That’s your direction.
If every time you show up in person, people respond — that’s data.
If every time you post online, it feels like shouting into space — that’s data.
If you repeatedly get compliments on one type of work — that’s data.
If a certain selling method never gains traction — also data.
None of this is emotional.
None of it is personal.
It’s simply the truth of what worked, and what didn’t.
And then there were the surprises — the places where the data didn’t match what I expected.
The surprises mattered too — the things I didn’t expect.
Like how much I loved creating The Creative Cloth magazine… even though the audience didn’t respond the way I hoped.
Or how in-person events turned out to be more profitable and more energizing than many online offers.
Or how often people said they wanted help but didn’t actually take the step to get it.
Those moments were disappointing in some ways, but they were also clarifying.
Sometimes the thing you love isn’t the thing your audience needs, and that doesn’t make it wrong.
It just means it might belong in a different container — or in a different season.
And then, there was the quiet growth — the kind that builds under the surface.
This year –
My confidence grew.
My boundaries sharpened.
My artistic identity came into better focus.
And my desire to spend more time making, and toward in-person teaching, rather than pouring endless hours into online systems that weren’t giving anything back.
That kind of growth is easy to miss because it doesn’t show up in a spreadsheet.
But it’s real.
And it’s often the most important part.
Here’s what I want you to think about-
What repeated itself this year?
What surprised you?
And what grew quietly, even if nobody else knows about it yet?
Because those patterns — the obvious ones and the subtle ones — are the clearest clues you have for what 2026 should look like.
Looking at those patterns — the good ones and the uncomfortable ones — led me to one more realization.
It’s the one that’s shaping how I’m planning 2026.
Here it is:
I’m no longer willing to build a business that asks more of me than it gives back.
Let me be clear, though — because this is important.
Building a business is hard. It asks us to do things we don’t always want to do. There will always be tasks we’d rather skip. That’s normal. And truthfully, I love that challenge. I love the freedom I have, the problem-solving, the fact that I get to create my own work in the world.
What I’m talking about is something different:
the work has to create a meaningful return — creatively, financially, or emotionally — for the people I serve and for me.
If you’re pouring into something week after week and it isn’t creating momentum, connection, or transformation, that’s not “business being hard.”
That’s a sign that the structure needs to change.
That doesn’t come from frustration.
That’s called clarity.
Somewhere along the way this year, I stopped feeling responsible for keeping every idea alive… and started paying attention to whether those ideas were actually earning their place.
I learned that if an offer doesn’t pull its weight — financially, creatively, or emotionally — I don’t have to keep carrying it.
If an audience only shows up for what’s free, that doesn’t mean my work has no value… it means I need a different container, a different structure, or a different audience altogether.
Look at your creative practice or business. Is it creating a meaningful return — creatively, financially, or emotionally — for the people you serve and for yourself?
And I learned this too — maybe the most important thing for you as well:
You are not your offers or products.
If something isn’t working, it doesn’t mean you’re not working.
That separation is freeing.
It lets me scrap what needs scrapping, refine what still has potential, and carry forward only what actually supports the life and business I want to build.
And for you, the takeaway is this:
What you keep, what you stop, and what you refine is not personal — it’s strategic.
You’re allowed to adjust the structure of your creative life based on what you learned this year.
And that’s exactly where we’re headed next week — because the whole point of reviewing your year isn’t to sit in the past.
It’s to get clear on the things that should shape your 2026.
Remember, your emotions are data. Almost better than any spreadsheet (although the numbers are very important). I’m not saying you shouldn’t look at them.
What felt good is pointing you somewhere.
What felt heavy is pointing you somewhere too.
What you avoided has a message in it.
And the patterns — the quiet ones — are often the clearest indicators of what actually works for you.
The big takeaway?
Nothing you learned this year is wasted. Every bit of it helps you shape a 2026 that fits you better than the year before. But only if you pay close attention to it.
If you want support applying this kind of reflection to your own creative business, and help turning it into an actionable plan for the new year, I’d love to have you inside The Maker’s Path. We’re working through this planning series together in a steady, manageable way — not a pressure cooker.
You’ll find the link in the show notes.
And next week — Part 3 of this year-end series — we’re talking about the one small win from 2025 that deserves to shape your entire 2026.
It’s a good one, and it’s going to feel encouraging.
I’ll see you then.
