Hello Adaptable Community,
As we step into a new season, I keep coming back to something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately: goal setting can feel hopeful and, for many of us, quietly painful at the same time. If you’ve ever set a goal with the best intentions and then felt that familiar wave of shame when you didn’t follow through, you’re not alone. I’ve been there too. That’s exactly why I’ve been leaning into what I call gentle goal setting. For me, it isn’t about willpower, hustle, or pushing harder. It’s about honoring your nervous system and your real life, and asking a kinder question: What’s possible for me right now?
For years, I believed that bigger goals meant better goals. But life has a way of teaching us that real change doesn’t start with pressure, it starts with safety. Gentle goals invite us to listen to our bodies and our bandwidth. They help us build trust with ourselves through small steps that are sustainable, meaningful, and aligned. They remind us that progress doesn’t have to be dramatic to be real. Sometimes the most powerful shift is choosing steadiness over intensity, and self-trust over self-criticism.
And here’s what feels especially tender and exciting for me right now: in 140 days, I turn 50. I’m genuinely surprised by how thrilled I feel to say that. It feels like I’m stepping into the next half century of my life with a grounded confidence I didn’t always have. I feel so grateful for the work I’ve done on my mental health, for the healing I’ve fought for, and for the version of me that has been shaped through it all. There’s a steadiness in who I am now that feels like home.
I’m also excited to enter this next phase of work and life alongside my husband. We’re continuing to enjoy being empty nesters, and we just celebrated our 26th anniversary. There’s something really sweet about this season, the quietness of the house, the deeper conversations, the way it feels like we’re closer than we’ve been. And with our recent commitment to physical health, I can feel how it supports everything else we’ve worked so hard for, including the comfort of earned secure attachment. That kind of closeness and safety isn’t an accident. It’s built over time, through repair, through choosing each other again and again, through showing up differently than we were taught. And I feel proud of that.
This next chapter has me thinking about my body, too. I want to take better care of the vessel that carries me through every challenge, every joy, every hard conversation, every brave choice. I want to do it gently, because I’m done carrying the old all or nothing thinking and the perfectionism armor. It’s too heavy. I don’t want to live that way anymore. I want little wins. I want kind goals. I want to be 1% better each day, not because I’m not enough, but because I deserve care that is attainable and real.
That’s also why I’m smiling as I write this, because we’ve made a fun family commitment: my husband, my mom, my youngest son, and I are doing a 1% better in 100 days stretch. We each chose goals that feel meaningful and realistic, and we’re planning to meet at the end of the 100 days to share what we learned, what shifted, and the wins we collected along the way. Not perfect streaks. Not dramatic transformations. Just evidence that small steps add up when you keep showing up with compassion.
And I have to say, I’m also soaking up something that feels like a gift: time with my mom that isn’t about caretaking. That’s been such a welcome change. We were recently looking at old pictures of our family, and it hit me in a way I didn’t expect. My parents were so young, the same age as my adult children are now. They’ve said before how it feels like just yesterday they were that young, and seeing those photos made it feel true. It reminded me how precious time is, and how each year seems to move faster than the last. It makes me want to live more intentionally, love more openly, and stop postponing the care and connection that matter most.
If I’m honest, I think this gentler approach is also a response to what 2025 demanded. It was a hard year. A tumultuous one. I found myself resonating with the symbolism of the Year of the Snake, the idea of shedding what’s no longer necessary. I don’t usually follow the Chinese calendar or philosophy closely, but with such a difficult 2025, it really resonated with me this year. Letting go of what I’ve outgrown felt true in my bones, and it made me feel ready to make room for what’s next as we move toward the Year of the Horse. Not by forcing, but by freeing. Not by proving, but by becoming.
So as you read this month’s newsletter, I hope you’ll consider giving yourself permission to set goals that heal instead of harm. Goals that fit your actual life. Goals that build self-trust one small, kind step at a time.
If any of this resonates, I want to invite you to let this month be about steadiness, not intensity. Below you’ll find my newest podcast episode along with a few offerings and updates from my world that I hope support your growth in a kind, realistic way. Take what fits, leave what doesn’t, and let this be a gentle companion as you move through your days.
Much Love,
Kelly
Check out my latest article: When Healing Feels Too Hard: Why We Avoid Our Stories
We hear a lot about “crushing goals,” but what happens when striving starts to feel like strain?
The truth is, traditional goal setting can pile on pressure, leaving us stuck in all-or-nothing thinking, shame spirals, and burnout. Gentle Goal Setting offers another way. It’s not about doing more; it’s about choosing what matters in a way your nervous system can actually hold.
In this episode, we explore a compassionate approach to growth: honoring your capacity, working with your body’s signals, and taking right-sized steps that build momentum without overwhelm. From trading perfection for presence to designing rhythms that fit real life, you’ll hear practical, kind strategies to move forward, no hustle culture required.
Whether you’re a therapist supporting clients or someone craving a kinder path for yourself, this conversation reminds us that progress doesn’t demand punishment. It asks for attunement.
🎧 Listen below, your invitation to set goals that feel nourishing, sustainable, and truly yours.
