Noise often chases away any silence in our hearts, our heads, and our homes during this season. As one year ends and another begins, loud voices shout out what we should be doing, buying, and thinking. On December 26, sales on toys will be replaced with advertisements for planners. Baking supplies for nutritional supplements. Twinkling lights for yoga mats.

An avid goal setter myself, I usually love this time of year to reflect and reset. To take the good of the past twelve months and plan to make it even better in the next. I typically select a word for the year and base all my goals on that central intention. Since Thanksgiving, I have been considering what word I would choose for 2025.

You know those regrets that won’t release their talons from your brain. They set in their claws so deeply that, if you try to remove them, you feel like you’ll end up removing part of yourself.

I have one such memory. One that as soon it gets pushed to the recesses of my mind, my long-term memory digs it up to broadcast at 11:27 p.m.—replaying it over and over so I finally fall back asleep curled up in shame.

You don’t have to wonder; I will tell you the story. Before I begin, though, I must let you know that I’m well aware that this is not that bad. You will be tempted to read my anecdote below, scoff, then say, “Seriously, get over it!” But for some reason I can’t, no matter how many times I try to expunge it from my mental record. No matter how often my husband confirms that it was, indeed, not a big deal, I still get squeamish any time I drive near the part of town where it occurred. We all have those moments (big or small) of shame, failure, or embarrassment that we can’t remove from our brain or our identity.

Without further ado, here we go: