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Intentional.

That’s my word for 2026.

I landed on it while journaling in one of my many Monica Sweeney journals (if you know Zen as F*ck, you know the vibe). One prompt asked me to list what I struggled with across different areas of my life—personal, professional, family, and everything in between. As I worked my way down the page, a pattern emerged.

Time.

Time management.

Too much scrolling.

Not enough presence.

Not enough focus on what actually matters.

Different categories, same root issue: time.

It honestly felt like a slap in the face. After having cancer, I became hyper-aware of how precious life is. I said all the right things—you only live once, don’t take your days for granted. And yet here I am, years later, doing exactly that: taking my days, my hours, my time for granted.

Here’s the truth—I’m busy, but I do have time. I’m just not using it wisely.

Instead of being intentional with my downtime, I default to mindless scrolling or other unproductive habits. I’ll sit down “for a minute,” and suddenly an hour has disappeared. My to-do list is untouched. I haven’t created anything meaningful. I haven’t produced a single permanent product. I’ve just… consumed.

One of my biggest contributors to this pattern has been podcasts and audiobooks. I love them. I support them wholeheartedly. But for me, they’ve become a gateway to inactivity. The moment I turn one on, I tend to sit or lay down and scroll my phone. What used to accompany driving, cleaning, or organizing somehow turned into something I consumed endlessly and gluttonously—often without intention or boundaries.

And I was losing hours because of it.

So one of the first changes I’ve made during this intentional year is putting podcasts and audiobooks back into their proper containers. I can listen while driving, cleaning, or doing something productive—but not while zoning out and scrolling. I need clear start and stop times. I need structure. I need intention.

What surprised me most is what this small shift has given back to me.

Over the past few days, I’ve picked up physical books again—real pages, real presence. I didn’t realize how much I missed being fully immersed in something without distraction. And that’s the other part of this realization: when I’m scrolling mindlessly, I’m not even truly listening. I’m half-present everywhere and fully present nowhere.

As this year unfolds, I plan to keep auditing my life—gently but honestly—asking where I can be more intentional with my time, my energy, and my attention. Being present in my own life is going to be a cornerstone of this year, and for the first time in a while, I’m genuinely excited about that.

Because now I can’t help but wonder: what am I missing when I’m not present—when I’m not living intentionally?

Do you have a word for 2026?