I have a habit at this time of year – a time when many of us take stock of what’s gone before – to start fretting about all the things I haven’t achieved or accomplished in the previous 12 months. I look at all the visions I wrote and the dreams I drew for 2014 on large pieces of paper in coloured pens, and I wonder why I’m not exactly where I wanted to be as 2015 approaches.

I get an urge to start doing something about these unfulfilled dreams immediately, in the few days that remain. I start rushing and racing, pushing and striving and beating myself up inside for not meeting the goals I set for myself.

And then … I stop. I breathe. I smile. And I begin to give thanks for all the things that have happened to me or I’ve made happen this year. I start to notice my growth, the subtle changes and the more obvious ones. I begin to have compassion for myself and my process.

And then I take a closer look at that piece of A4 paper with coloured words, drawings and squiggles and, instead of dismissing it as a jumble of dashed hopes and unmet dreams, I realise that parts of it have come true, even if they’ve come true in a different way to how I envisaged them or not quite to the degree I’d hoped.

To give you an idea, some of the words and pictures on my vision page are: adventure, travel, Spain, Dorset, the English countryside, sun, cycling, swimming in the sea, writing, coaching, teaching, inspiring, a campervan, love.

Maybe I hadn’t expected ‘adventure, travel and Spain’ to come true in the form of a solo summer camping trip to Tarifa, but that trip was just what I needed at the time. I experienced peace while I travelled, and peace and travel haven’t always gone together for me. Nor had I imagined my campervan experience would involve North Wales and Christmas (I’m hiring one with my boyfriend in Conwy on Boxing Day), but as crazy as that seems to me at times, it’s also perfect (in it’s own, crazy imperfect way). And I haven’t done as much writing, coaching, teaching or inspiring as I’d have liked, but there’s been some of that. I have taught, I have encouraged and supported others, I have given talks on eating disorders and perfectionism to teenage girls – I have extended myself for the purpose of other people’s emotional and spiritual growth. And I’ve learned to love (more on that later and on the ‘boyfriend’ term, which is one you haven’t seen much around these parts).

Then there are other words on my vision page – such as ‘publish my book, be part of a community or a team, family?, children? (yes, the questionmarks are there), a pain-free, fit and supple body, an abundance of time and money’ – things that continue to be a work in progress. And that’s OK. After all, it’s about the journey, not the destination.

It’s progress, not perfection.

There are also some things I didn’t write down on my vision page and that I didn’t expect to happen to me. A wrist injury in early summer that sent me plummeting into a murky pool of depression, a brief flirtation with anti-depressants and the rather creative way (if I do say so myself) in which I clambered out of my stuckness, restored my sanity and found happiness again (the extreme self-care, the spontaneous trips to the beach, the writers’ retreat, the body boarding in Bude and my decision to commit to a relationship – it’s all documented in this blog, which, to my credit, I have maintained).

So in this, probably my last post of 2014, I’d like to salute my progress. And I’d like to salute yours – because I’m sure you’ve progressed too in many subtle or not-so-subtle ways, even if it feels like you haven’t, even if right now you’re sat staring at a vision board of unmet hopes and dreams, or even if you still haven’t got a clue what your vision is.

Why not champion our achievements? Why not search them out intentionally instead of honing in on our disappointments? Why not give thanks for the good stuff instead of focusing on where we’ve fallen short?

So, on my ‘good stuff’ list, I have the following:

I have continued, albeit intermittently, to write my book, despite losing momentum at times. And I invested in October in a writers’ retreat as a gift to myself and as a vote of confidence in my abilities to get to the end of a project that’s so close to my heart and so important to me, but so challenging too.

I have pulled myself back from the brink of despair (as described above) by choosing to put my health and wellbeing first and by recognising that I am often the author of my own stress or melancholy and that I have choices. I can make it better for myself. Often all it takes is a dip in the sea.

I have made a decision to commit to a relationship – put two feet in and use the ‘boyfriend’ word – and to learn to love and accept rather than criticise, judge, push away or try to change, shape or mold him into somebody else, no matter how strong the urge (there’s been progress here, not perfection!). I have learned to process my emotions in healthier ways, where possible outside of the relationship, so I don’t chuck all my baggage at one person (it can be a heavy load, although it’s getting lighter).

I have learned the art of pausing and reflecting, rather than reacting. I have learned to write about my anger or explore my resentments on paper, to share my doubts, fears and feelings with my fellows, get support and let some time pass before I decide what to say or what steps to take. This, along with the previous point about the relationship (they’re closely linked), is something of a miracle. I guess I’m growing up.

I have trained in a new tool that plays to some of my strengths that are underused in my writing career and that moves me closer to my dream of coaching, encouraging, inspiring and supporting others on their journey to greater confidence, improved self-esteem and a happier life. If you’d like to find out more, take a look at my new, incredibly colourful website – How to Play to Your Strengths – which I designed myself (not bad for a self-confessed technophobe – turns out you just have to read the instructions!).

I have made choices. I have taken risks. Progress, not perfection.

Not so many years ago, I was bingeing, starving, running, judging, criticising, burning out. I am still ambitious and determined. I still want to fulfill my dreams. But I’ve learned that achievement, without peace, doesn’t work for me.

Despite all the growth and change, my perfectionism can still throw a spanner in the works. And I still have an inner saboteur who doesn’t want me to succeed and a child inside me who’s scared of being seen, despite wanting desperately to be noticed. I’d like to tame my inner saboteur and coax that scared little child, who’s afraid of judgement, of criticism, of not being good enough, out of her shell.

More of this, please (a beautiful day in Dorset)

So in 2015, I’d like more of the same – more growth, more love and loving, more fun, more sun, more swimming, more adventures, more writing, teaching, coaching, inspiring and being inspired, more joy and laughter, more time for the important stuff in life, more acceptance of my journey and of yours and more peace.

But whatever 2015 looks like, it will be good enough.

I would, though, like to commit to a few things, call them resolutions, if you like: to say No to others more often in order to say Yes to myself; to listen to my instinct and have the courage to follow it; to trust God and myself; to risk; to lighten up; and to let go.

I’ll end on a little made-up poem, which doesn’t quite rhyme (but as it is, it’s just fine):

If your end of year review, leaves you feeling rather blue,

Look at it from a different perspective, and give thanks for progress, not perfection.

Merry Christmas and a happy, prosperous and peaceful 2015.