Slow and steady: I’m ditching big resolutions and easing into a new year

This year, I'm giving myself permission to enjoy life, fully and unapologetically

Written by Jennifer V. |

Updated banner for Jennifer V.'s column The Beginner's Guide to Walking

I always feel like the start of a new year arrives with a certain amount of pressure. We make resolutions, talk about reinvention, and make quiet promises to ourselves that we’ll do better.

As someone living with neuromyelitis optica spectrum disorder (NMOSD), that pressure can feel especially heavy. Chronic illness already asks so much of my body and mind. When resolutions don’t go as planned, or aren’t met at all, they can leave me feeling defeated, as though my health has somehow failed a test it was never designed to pass.

This year, I’m choosing a different approach. Instead of aiming for dramatic change, I’m embracing the idea that slow and steady truly does win the race. Progress doesn’t need to be loud to be meaningful.

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A sustainable approach

One of the ways I’m easing into the year is by permitting myself to enjoy life, fully and unapologetically. Hobbies are not a luxury; they’re a lifeline. Baking, for example, grounds me. It’s sensory, creative, and nourishing.

Yesterday, I baked homemade cinnamon rolls and even made extra cream cheese icing. There was such comfort in using my hands and in being able to stand in my kitchen long enough to finish a recipe. Afterward, enjoying the treat with my family felt like a decadent reward. Having a hobby reminds me that joy still exists outside of treatment plans and to-do lists. Making space for what I love is not avoidance; it’s a form of resilience.

Movement is another area where I’m choosing gentleness over expectation.

Exercise is often framed as something we should push through, but NMOSD has taught me that listening to my body matters more than any arbitrary goal. I move when my body feels strong enough to do so, and I rest when it doesn’t.

Some days that means a walk, stretching, or light strength work. Other days, it means choosing stillness without guilt. Strength, for me, isn’t measured by consistency on a calendar. It should be measured by awareness and respecting my limits, thereby protecting my ability to move in the future. Slow progress is still progress, and honoring my body is a form of strength that I’ve earned.

Living with NMOSD means that energy is precious, so nourishment is crucial. While food is fuel, it should also be enjoyed. I’m choosing food that supports my body, but I’ll also allow room for comfort. Food connects me to memories, to people I love and miss, and to moments of normalcy. Finding a balance doesn’t mean restriction; it means being intentional. Feeding my body well includes feeding my spirit, and both are essential parts of living fully with NMOSD. No more restrictive diets, just healthy choices. But I won’t beat myself up if I enjoy a sweet treat on occasion.

Life with NMOSD means my neurologist and I are constantly reflecting on my treatment plan — what’s working, what’s changed, and what might no longer be necessary. It often means navigating new medications, adjusting doses, or thoughtfully weaning off treatments that were added during more acute periods.

I’m attempting a new treatment to support my mental health, but we’re easing into it. Decisions like these can feel daunting, but they also represent progress. They signal stability, careful monitoring, and collaboration with my care team. I’m learning that treatment isn’t static; it evolves as I do. Trying something new, or letting go of something old, requires trust in my body, in my doctors, and in the knowledge that adjustments are part of the process.

As I move forward into this year, I’m letting go of the idea that success must be dramatic or measurable by traditional standards. Success, for me, looks like listening, adapting, and choosing compassion, especially toward myself. Slow and steady isn’t about settling; it’s a sustainable approach. It’s how I protect my energy, nurture joy, and continue building a life that feels full, even with NMOSD.


Note: Neuromyelitis News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health providers with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Neuromyelitis News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to neuromyelitis optica spectrum disorder.

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