My 2026 Word of the Year: Uplift

Some years ago, I stopped doing New Year’s resolutions. In part, it was a practical decision: trying to initiate sweeping personal change in the depths of winter runs counter to the season itself. We don’t plant seeds in frozen ground; we wait for spring. Winter is for rest, for taking stock, for quiet recalibration—not for forcing growth on demand.

But beyond seasonality, resolutions began to feel restrictive. They reduced complex inner work to checklists and outcomes, and they often collapse under the weight of my perfectionism. Miss a step, break the streak, and my entire project felt like a failure. What was meant to encourage transformation became another mechanism of self-surveillance.

So instead, I replaced resolutions with a single word—one that could act less like a rule and more like a compass.

In 2023, that word was 'courage'. It wasn’t about boldness for its own sake, but about staying with discomfort long enough to tell the truth. In 2024, the word became 'confidence'—not bravado, but trust in my own judgment after years of outsourcing it. In 2025, I chose 'joy', a deliberate refusal to treat seriousness as moral virtue or suffering as proof of depth.

What I’ve found is that a word guides behavior more gently, and more honestly, than a list of demands ever could. It leaves room for nuance. It allows for failure without collapse. It asks not, “Did I succeed?” but “Did I orient myself correctly?”

For 2026, I chose the word 'uplift'.

Unlike my previous words, this one turns outward. It asks how my presence affects others. Whether my speech clarifies or confuses, steadies or inflames. Whether I am contributing to dignity, understanding, and shared humanity—or merely adding to the noise.

And this is where it intersects with my open letter to Spencer Pratt and Trisha Paytas...

Whether or not Spencer and Trisha are serious about their bids ultimately isn’t the point. Intent can be opaque, motivations mixed, and public performance indistinguishable from genuine transformation. But when I sense—even imperfectly—that someone is being catalyzed by experience, by hardship, by trauma, and is attempting to orient themselves toward something higher than self-interest, that effort matters. If there is movement toward the highest good—however tentative, however inarticulate—I choose to uplift it.

Uplift, for me, does not mean endorsement without critique, nor does it mean suspension of discernment. It means offering support where support can stabilize, guidance where guidance can clarify, and education where education can deepen rather than humiliate. It is a refusal to rush judgment—to let curiosity exist without suspicion, and to let becoming unfold without cynicism.

If we want a culture capable of ethical leadership, we have to be willing to meet people at the threshold of growth—not just after they’ve crossed it. In 2026, my commitment is to uplift in precisely this way.

Love, Light, and Critical Inquiry,
Nicole