The First Quarter Reset

 

First Quarter Reset

It can be difficult to let things go, to recognize what you truly want, and to give that feeling a name. This past January, I went through another period of personal growth and realized that many of these insights apply just as much to my professional aspirations as they do to my personal life.

Welcome to the first quarter reset. Granted, we’ve just entered the second month of the quarter, but it’s never too early for reflection and clarity. I want to begin with the personal side, because it inevitably seeps into everything else.

Family Lessons

My parents are good people. My mother, in particular, was wise, resilient, and deeply principled. For years, I was her unpaid carer, and through that time I watched how she carried herself, level-headed, uninterested in gossip, unwilling to lie or manipulate. She was respected within her community and fiercely protective of those she loved.

Only in the final year of her life did she begin to question whether she had protected others too fiercely. The same siblings, nieces, and nephews she had defended turned on her, and eventually on her children. I became the primary scapegoat.

Between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two, I did what I was asked by my elders on my mother’s side, believing that respect and obedience were owed simply because of age and blood. Culture at its finest.

It was only later, after conversations were misrepresented, twisted, and weaponized, that I understood how deeply misplaced that trust had been. My mother and I had both underestimated the cost of loyalty to people who did not offer it in return.

By 2024, the situation had deteriorated to the point where I genuinely did not know if I would survive the year. Accusations came from every direction, and I found myself living in a constant state of fear and self-doubt. I withdrew completely, changed my number, closed myself off, and learned how difficult trust can be to rebuild once it has been broken.

What remains hardest is the regret. The quiet, persistent what if. If I had trusted my instincts sooner. If I had been more cautious. If I had known then what I know now. I often wish I could be given those years back, not to change everything, but to move through them with greater awareness, discernment, and care.

My father, like many people would say of theirs, has always been the best dad in the world. As he grows older, and as I find myself at twenty-six without a job or a significant other, I worry that I am running out of time to show him my happiness. I have already lost one parent who did not get to witness the pivotal moments of my life, and I desperately do not want to experience that kind of loss again. Some things, however, are simply beyond our control.

When you lose a parent, everything changes. Household dynamics shift, quiet people find unexpected courage, and relationships are reshaped in ways you never anticipate. You are left to navigate it all without your greatest shield.

I am the youngest of three. My oldest brother is married with a daughter, my older sister is married as well, and everyone has their jobs and routines.

Here’s what took me a while to realize. I don’t want their lives. I don’t want their marriages, their careers, or the paths they’ve taken. What they have is not what I aspire to.

What I want is stability. A life that feels peaceful and fulfilling. A life where I can breathe and build without constantly measuring myself against someone else. I want a chance to start over, to live a life on my own terms, one that is perfect by my own standards.

Professional Reflection

The same applies to my professional life. All those “day in the life” posts as a publishing professional, complete with trending audio and TikTok timestamps, look impressive. But the real question is, what do I actually want?

Buying books and reading them is wonderful, but I need to pause and ask myself what feeling I am truly chasing, what goal I am working toward, and what purpose I want to create for myself. That is the question we all need to ask if we want more than just the appearance of success.

This is not the analytical post I usually write, but it is one that needs attention. What makes publishing truly special is the emotion it awakens. The excitement. The longing. The angst. The yearning.

This is exactly what publishing is missing right now. Too often, it captures only the mind, not the heart. And while living rent free in someone’s head can be powerful, it is not what keeps readers coming back. What keeps readers returning is how a book makes them feel, how they respond emotionally to a moment, a line that resonates, or even the weather on the day they read it.

Lessons From Experience

I often talk on LinkedIn and here on this blog, including in my 2025 wrap-up, about how much I would love to move to London, work in publishing, and live that fast paced city life. That dream felt set in stone until I had to travel into London for the second task of an internship assessment.

Coming from a small town, the four hour journey was exhausting, and the experience left me completely drained. It did not take long for reality to hit me. London is not the life I want. It is not a place I could call home, thrive in, or genuinely contribute to. A once in a while visit would be fine, it’s the permanence I couldn’t live with.

What I wanted wasn’t London. I wanted the feeling I thought London represented. Being useful. Being busy. Being independent. For some reason, I tied those feelings to the city, believing that moving there would prove I had made it.

I soon realized that it wouldn’t have meant that at all.

Since then, my options have become more focused, with Hachette Sheffield standing out as the place I admire most. That realization forced me to ask a deeper question, what is it that we actually want?

It’s not someone else’s life. It’s the feeling we’re chasing, the feeling of independence, respect, and fulfillment.

It’s about recognizing where that feeling comes from. It’s not the disrespect that hurts most, but the way we hold ourselves back, clinging to fleeting moments of approval or validation. It’s hard to let go, to stop reaching for two seconds of goodness when what you truly need is something lasting.

Letting go is hard. Trusting your gut, slowing down, and stopping the endless overthinking is even harder. The world does not yet have a cure for that.

For me, writing is the closest thing. It slows the chaos, helps me see my thoughts clearly, and reminds me that I am not trapped in every feeling I have. This first quarter reset is about recognizing what matters, naming the feelings that guide you, and moving forward with more awareness, courage, and intention, even when everything in your DNA urges you back toward familiar patterns.

As February begins, don’t assume a difficult January has ruined the year ahead. February is not a reset, but a continuation, a chance to build on what January taught us while moving closer to who we hope to become by year’s end.

After all, F is for fun… or frightful, depending on how February is feeling.

It feels good to write out what I’m feeling, and I hope it helps even one reader. Don’t forget to check out my January wrap-up, and while you’re at it, head over to the Let’s Connect page to find all things me.

See you between the pages,
Vivian