One of my biggest priorities over the past year has been to slow down. After wearing a bit thinner than I was comfortable with in 2021, I committed myself to not overcommit myself in 2022. To set aside time just for me and for my family rather than taking on as much external responsibility as I could handle. This turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

The effect on my mental health was stark. I’m really good at putting too much pressure on myself, and I didn’t realize what an impact it had on me until I got out from under it. I’ve been much more present this past year, not to mention more pleasant to be around. I appreciate things more deeply than I used to. I like myself more now, which is an odd feeling—but one that I’m proud of.

It’s been surprisingly great for my work, too. Without the haze of anxiety hanging over me all the time, I’ve been able to think more clearly and, ironically, get more done. My output last year was the best it’s been in a long time thanks to my decision to do less.

But the area I’ve seen the most improvement in is my ability to regulate my reactions to the things that happen to me. Before, my immediate response to any stressor was an overwhelming feeling of anxiety. I literally learned to recognize the sensation of cortisol being released in my brain. I would go into situations preemptively stressed out about what was going to happen, and then when it actually happened, I would stress again. It was a brutal cycle.

Once I slowed down and reclaimed some of my mental bandwidth, I found that I had more control over that urge to melt down. Instead of feeling dread when something unexpected happened, I learned to face it, adapt to it, and carry on. Every single thing didn’t seem like a disaster anymore.

This was quite freeing; it literally felt like a weight had been taken off of my shoulders. I didn’t have to be afraid of life anymore.

I could look at unforeseen obstacles as challenges rather than roadblocks. I could exercise flexibility and accept the things outside of my control. Basically, I could approach the world in a healthy way, and I am so thankful for that.

Over the past year, I’ve seen these benefits grow and manifest in so many different ways. My quality of life has improved. I saw myself change to the point that I felt like a totally different person.

That is, until something happened recently that reminded me just how much I’m still very much the same.

The period between Thanksgiving and Christmas is an extremely busy time at the church. We do a lotaround Christmastime here. In previous years, I would spend the season feeling anxious about everything I needed to do. This time around, though, I was feeling much more on top of things thanks to my being in a better mental state and some careful planning.

Then the unexpected happened. A wrinkle came up out of the blue, and it threw me off. I wasn’t prepared for my plans to change, and I really wasn’t prepared for my reaction to my plans changing.

I started to stress. I felt the familiar rush of cortisol coursing through my brain. My mind got foggy; I tensed up. I was immediately back in the place I’d been too many times before.

The anxiety I was feeling in that moment was compounded by something new: disappointment in myself. I’d come so far! How could I let it get to this point again? I was frustrated not only with the situation, but with myself for reacting the way I did.

Thankfully, my relapse was short-lived. It was rough for about a half-day before my better instincts kicked in. Even though I experienced that moment of intense stress, the fortitude I’d developed over the past year helped me recover relatively quickly and get a handle on myself. In reality, the thing that had set me off wasn’t that big of a deal, and I took care of it competently.

Still, it was a humbling experience. After keeping my emotions in check so well for so long, I was shocked at my capacity for reversion. I thought I was cured; turns out, not so much.

As much progress as I’ve made (and will continue to make), I’m not immune to my own frailty. I’m still human, after all. There will be days when I don’t react to things the way I would like to, and there’s only so much I can do to control that.

That doesn’t mean I won’t keep trying. I’m still quite proud of the ways I’ve grown over the past year, and I’m appreciative of how my life has improved as a result. One setback doesn’t negate the many steps I’ve taken in the right direction. One bad day can’t take away how far I’ve come.

It’s the same for all of us. Growth isn’t always linear; it doesn’t necessarily move in a straight line. We work to improve ourselves, and often we succeed. Sometimes, we don’t. But we can’t let that stop us from trying. It’s the trying that counts.

Hopefully, in the long run, we’ll be able to look back and see the ways we’ve grown. We may not notice the inches we’re gaining day by day. But eventually, we’ll look up and realize we’re in a completely different place than where we started, even if we took a couple of steps backward along the way.

So don’t give up. If you’ve had a setback, let me be first to tell you: I’ve been there. We all have. But we don’t have to stay there. We can keep going.

My hope for each of us this year is that we’ll all experience growth in the ways that we need it, as messy as that growth may be. Happy new year, friends.