Most year planning goes wrong at the start. Not in the execution — in the questions being asked.
Goals, KPIs, vision boards, word-of-the-year exercises: all of these assume that what you need is direction — a destination to aim for. And direction is useful. But for a lot of women I work with, the problem isn't lack of direction. It's that they're moving very efficiently toward a life they designed when they were a different person, in different circumstances, with different information about what they actually want.
Planning that doesn't start with honest reflection produces more of the same with slightly different targets.
These ten questions are designed to slow you down before you speed up. To help you look clearly at the year that's passed before you decide what to do with the one ahead.
"The question isn't what do you want to achieve. It's whether what you're planning to achieve is actually what you want."
Ten questions for meaningful year planning
1. What actually mattered this year — not what should have mattered?
Set aside the goals you set, the things you were supposed to care about, the professional milestones. What genuinely mattered to you? What do you think about when you're falling asleep? What made you feel most alive, or most yourself? The honest answer to this question is frequently different from the official answer — and the gap between them is important information.
2. Where were you running on empty for too long?
Not where you were busy — where you were depleted. There's a difference between full and stretched, between engaged and drained. Which relationships, roles, or commitments were leaving you with less than you started? Naming these specifically — rather than the vague sense that everything was too much — is the first step to changing them.
3. What did you keep meaning to do that you never got to?
The things perpetually on the list but never reached. Sometimes these stay undone because they're not actually important. Sometimes they stay undone because the friction around them is too high and you've never cleared it. And sometimes they stay undone because doing them would mean something — would require you to show up for yourself in a way that feels vulnerable or uncertain. Knowing which of these is true matters.
4. Which of your standards are actually yours?
Many of the standards we hold ourselves to — about how the house should look, how we should perform at work, how available we should be to others, what a good mother/partner/friend/colleague looks like — are inherited rather than chosen. Which of yours are genuinely your values? Which are someone else's expectations that you've been carrying as your own?
5. What did you stop doing this year — and should you bring it back?
Things get dropped in busy seasons and don't always get reinstated. Creative work. Exercise that you loved. Regular time with particular people. Time that was yours without agenda. What's been absent that you've missed?
6. Where are you tolerating something you shouldn't be?
The thing you keep managing around rather than addressing. The relationship dynamic that hasn't been named. The work situation that's uncomfortable but not quite bad enough to act on. The version of your life you've accepted as fixed when it might not be. Tolerance has a cost, and it's worth counting what you're paying.
7. What would you do differently if you genuinely believed you had permission?
This question bypasses the practical objections temporarily. If fear of judgment, practical obstacles, and other people's expectations were removed, what would you do differently? The answer is almost always clarifying, even when acting on it is complicated.
8. What do you want more of — and what would you have to do less of to have it?
This is the zero-sum question that most planning avoids. If you want more time, space, energy, connection, or creative work in your life — what currently occupies that space? Every "more" requires a "less." Being specific about the tradeoff makes the choice real rather than aspirational.
9. What's the one thing that, if it changed, would change everything else?
Not the most impressive goal. Not the most urgent problem. The single lever that, if shifted, would create the most movement elsewhere. Sometimes it's a relationship. Sometimes it's a way of working. Sometimes it's a belief about what's possible for you. Finding the real lever is more useful than a long list of targets.
10. What does next year feel like, if it goes well?
Not what does it look like in terms of achievements — what does it feel like? How do you want to experience your days? What quality of life are you planning for, not just what level of output? The feeling you're aiming for is often a better guide to the right choices than any specific goal.
How to use these questions
Not all at once. Pick two or three that feel most relevant to where you are. Write, rather than just think — externalising tends to produce more honesty than internal rumination. Give yourself permission for the answers to be inconvenient.
The point isn't to produce a neat plan. It's to make sure that the plan you produce is actually in service of the life you want, rather than a more efficient version of the life you've already been living.
Wondering if you're carrying more friction than you realise?
The Low Friction Audit is a free, quiet guide to help you notice where life is asking more of you than it should. No action plan. Just honest noticing.
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