Permission to Do Less
If I’m sick of one thing already in December it’s this one particular lie:
“Finish strong.”
Like if we don’t sprint across the year-end finish line with a color-coded planner and a freshly optimized life, we’ve somehow failed Leadership 101.
But here’s an alternative — the one that to me feels more human, more sustainable, and more real this year:
You don’t need to end the year on a high note. You just need to end it whole.
The myth of the strong finish
We treat December like a final exam. Like the entire year will be graded on these last four weeks.
But leadership isn’t measured by whether you can bulldoze your way to the finish line. It’s measured by whether you can still hear your own voice in the noise.
And this year? I’m not interested in crushing anything. Least of all myself.
A personal truth I’m living right now
Back in January, I had goals for 2025. Some ambitious, some tender, all meaningful.
Not a single one of them included spending the entire spring caring for my mom, spending the entire summer closing up her home, losing her in June.
Those were not part of the plan. Those were not part of the “strong finish” I thought I was building toward.
Grief rearranges you in ways that planners can’t anticipate. But so does any unexpected season: a career shift, a health crisis, a relationship ending, a sudden responsibility, a surprising opportunity, a period of burnout, a season of caretaking… Anything that disrupts your map changes the terrain.
And the truth is: I’m not even a little bit tempted to roll over my unmet 2025 goals into 2026 — but to really spend this month evaluating whether or not they should’ve been goals in the first place.
Because sometimes the goals you set were made by a version of yourself who didn’t yet know what life had in store. Sometimes they were shaped by pressure, not purpose. And sometimes unexpected change hands you a sharper lens than ambition ever could.
Doing less is not giving up
Doing less is discerning.
Doing less is wise.
Choosing to do less is leadership.
It’s saying:
“My capacity has changed — and that matters.”
“This goal isn’t aligned with who I am right now.”
“I don’t have to complete everything I planned in January.”
“I choose presence over performance.”
December isn’t asking you to be heroic. It’s asking you to be honest.
What if “enough” is the goal?
Instead of asking, How can I finish strong? Try asking, What would it look like to finish gently?
Instead of cramming your calendar full, try:
one true priority at a time
one act of care instead of ten acts of hustle
one breath before every yes
You don’t owe anyone a perfectly wrapped-up year. You owe yourself spaciousness.
Take five quiet minutes and write:
“What can I release from my December to-do list — not because I can’t do it, but because I don’t need to?”
List three things you’re letting go. Circle the one that scares you the most — that’s the one with the greatest freedom baked in.
Because you don’t become a better leader by doing more. You become a better leader by doing what matters… and letting the rest go.
