Every birthday, I find myself doing the same thing. I replay the year in my head. I think about the biggest accomplishments, the hardest moments, the things I wish had gone differently, and the goals I still haven’t reached. Somehow, I always try to summarize 365 days into one conclusion.
Was it a good year?
Was it a hard year?
Did I accomplish enough?
This year, I realized I was asking the wrong questions.
When I stopped replaying only the highlight reel, I realized the moments that actually shaped me weren’t the biggest ones at all.
Yes, there were incredible highs, like keynotes and product launches. There were also moments that challenged me in ways I never expected, like broken ribs and financial constraints. But neither of those defined my year. What stayed with me were the moments in between: the mornings I got up and kept going even when I felt discouraged, the conversations that stretched my perspective, the quiet nights at home reading and doing crafts, the long walks to catch my breath, the people who turned everyday moments into memories I’ll hold onto for a lifetime, and the little wins I forgot to celebrate because I was already chasing the next goal.
Those moments don’t usually make it into our yearly recap.
And maybe they should.
When someone asks how your year was, most people immediately think of one or two events. Maybe it was a new job, a breakup, a move, a loss, a promotion, a diagnosis, or a dream that finally came true.
Those moments matter, but they are only chapters.
Think about your favorite book. If someone read only one chapter, they would never understand the entire story or be able to predict the ending. I recently read Never Lie by Frieda McFadden, and if I had judged the entire book by a single chapter, I would have completely missed what made the story so good. Every time I thought I had figured out the ending, another small detail changed the direction of the story.
The same is true for your life. One chapter doesn’t tell the whole story. Your biggest accomplishment doesn’t define you, and neither does your hardest season. Looking back, it was often the smallest moments that quietly changed the direction of my story.
I think we spend so much time waiting for the next big milestone that we forget we’re living our lives every single day.
The older I get, the more I appreciate my camera roll. Not because of the vacations or celebrations, but because of the random photos I almost forgot about.
A sunset.
A blanket I crocheted.
Dinner with friends.
A screenshot of a quote I needed that day.
My Scrabble board.
A walk where my mind finally felt quiet.
Looking back, those pictures remind me that life wasn’t happening only during the exciting moments. It was happening on ordinary Tuesdays, quiet evenings, and simple afternoons that didn’t seem important at the time. Those are the memories I find myself returning to the most.
When we think about growth, we usually picture big breakthroughs, reaching the goal, getting the opportunity, or finally overcoming the challenge. But, when I look back on this year, most of my growth happened in the decisions no one else saw.
The days I chose to keep showing up.
The times I said no because it was the healthier choice.
The moments I trusted myself instead of asking everyone else what they thought.
The afternoons that I kept working when progress felt slow.
Those decisions didn’t change my life overnight. They changed me, little by little. Looking back, I can see that every small decision was quietly shaping the person I was becoming.
If someone took away every accomplishment from this year, what would you still have?
The person you became.
The wisdom you gained.
The resilience you built.
The relationships you strengthened.
The perspective you earned.
No one can take those things away, and maybe that’s a better way to measure a year. Not by everything you collected, but by everything you became.
If twenty-seven taught me anything, it’s this: my life wasn’t built by milestones. It was built in the quiet, ordinary moments between them. Looking back, those moments shaped who I became far more than the achievements I celebrated or the challenges I overcame.
As I celebrate another year around the sun, I don’t want to focus on accomplishments or the obstacles. I don’t want to decide whether this was a good year or a bad one. I want to recognize every ordinary moment that shaped me into someone stronger, wiser, and more grateful than I was a year ago.
I want to hold onto the conversations that made me feel seen, the people who made me laugh, the days I kept going when no one was watching, the mornings I chose hope over discouragement, and the evenings I spent creating something I believed in.
Because those were the moments that mattered most.
They challenged me. They taught me. They changed me.
Before you decide whether this past year was good or bad, successful or unsuccessful, ask yourself a different question:
Who did this year help you become?
Because when you remember the moments in between, you might realize they tell the truest story of all.
