The Year That Changed Me
In the middle of last year, I was packing the last pieces of our dream life in Vermont into a U-Haul truck. I was on the phone constantly with our realtor and attorney, trying to ensure the closing would happen on time — and at the expected price. I had just put Caitlin and our then 1.5-year-old son Alden on a plane to Illinois that morning, and I wouldn’t see them again until I pulled into our new driveway two days later.
The house we were buying? I hadn’t even seen it yet. Thank god for FaceTime and property inspectors.
The next morning, I slid my mattress into the final space in the trailer, loaded up the dog, and drove through torrential rain all the way to our new life.
We unloaded everything into the garage and moved in with my in-laws for two months. During that time, we painted nearly every wall, cleaned carpets, and tackled all the small-but-crucial projects that were easier to finish before unpacking a toddler into the chaos.
By the beginning of 2025, we were holding our breath through the first fragile weeks of pregnancy. Nine months later, we brought our daughter Finley into the world, brought her home to our now-finished house, and navigated more change than I thought I could handle.
Somehow, I feel more grounded than ever before.
I’ve been sitting with this word a lot: change.
When I zoom out, it’s clear that nearly everything meaningful in my life shifted this year. And not always in dramatic ways — often in quiet, foundational, we’ll-look-back-and-remember-this kind of ways.
I became a father of two.
I watched my wife rebuild her sense of self in the wake of that transition.
I turned down more new work than I accepted — not because I didn’t want to help, but because I finally understood what kind of coaching I’m here to do and who I’m best suited to serve.
I made mistakes with my own money. I caught them. I corrected them. I grew.
I uncovered a new chapter of life as an athlete — reconnecting with my competitive spirit, pushing my limits on the bike, finding joy in the suffering, and trusting my body more deeply with every mile.
And I redefined success in almost every corner of my life.
We got lean. Then we got clear.
I started the year with vague goals:
Grow the business.
Support our growing family.
Still ride my bike.
Still lift at the gym.
Read a few books.
Keep up with friends.
Show up for my marriage.
Parent with intention.
Turns out… that was a lot.
There were nights Caitlin and I barely spoke a full sentence to each other. Many, many weeks when “date night” was just collapsing on the couch with ice cream and the baby monitor. Whole months where it felt like I was sprinting in circles — tired, behind, and unsure if anything I was doing was actually moving us forward.
It wasn’t until I stopped chasing so much that I actually started to feel progress.
We trimmed expenses. We restructured our cash flow. I got more discerning about how I spent my time — not just in the business, but at home too.
And then, clarity emerged.
Not all at once.
But enough to build from.
What changed in our finances
Our spending didn’t skyrocket with the new baby — but it did shift.
We spent more on food (especially when time was tight).
None on travel.
More on house stuff.
Way less on experiences.
We dipped into our emergency fund a few times.
We talked about money more than ever before — sometimes assuredly, sometimes with panic in our voices.
We made a few dumb purchases.
A few great ones.
And a lot of boring, necessary ones.
And somehow, we still made progress.
Our “opportunity fund” brokerage account remained untouched and kept growing — a number we’re deeply proud of.
We continue living debt-free (except for the mortgage).
We made some imperfect-but-empowering choices about HSA, Roth IRA, and 529 contributions.
We didn’t do it all. But we did enough.
And I’m proud of that.
Because that’s what this year taught me:
You don’t have to be perfect to be on the right path.
Who I became as a coach
I used to believe my job was to help anyone.
If someone was struggling, I wanted to help.
If someone wanted to grow, I wanted to be the one who made it easier.
And I still feel that way — in part.
But I’ve also learned that trying to help everyone is the fastest path to burnout, frustration, and missed potential.
So this year, I let go of the savior complex.
I stopped bending over backwards for clients who couldn’t commit.
I stopped apologizing for my prices.
I started saying no more often — not from ego, but from respect:
For the work.
For myself.
And for the people I’m best positioned to serve.
And the result?
I attracted some of the most aligned, energizing, dream-fit clients I’ve ever had.
The kind who light up when we talk.
Who follow through.
Who challenge me to grow.
Who remind me why I do this work in the first place.
What I’m bringing into 2026
I don’t have a flashy resolution.
Truthfully, I’m pretty anti-resolution — too much pressure, not enough clarity.
I’m not planning a no-spend month or chasing some epic financial milestone.
What I am doing is staying focused on what matters most:
Protecting time with my family.
Growing the business with clarity.
Coaching the hell out of the people who are ready for real transformation.
Letting good enough be good enough when that’s what the moment calls for.
I’m walking into 2026 feeling steady —
Not because everything is perfect,
But because I know who I am,
What I want,
And what I’m building toward.
And that’s more than enough for right now.
Try This Today
Before the ball drops tonight, take five minutes to reflect:
What changed in your life this year?
What surprised you about your money, your habits, or your priorities?
What did you do well — even if it wasn’t perfect?
What are you ready to carry forward into 2026?
And if you want help answering those questions with more clarity — I’m here for you.
Wishing you a year of peace, progress, and the kind of change that actually lasts.
— Andrew
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