I am constantly setting New Year’s resolutions I can’t possibly stick to, my to-do lists are long and unnticked, and I’m always on the hunt for the next gold star to tell me everything is ok.
But this year, I decided to slow everything down. No New Year’s resolutions, no goals to complete before Q1 ended – only a simple task of looking for the things that made me smile in my everyday.
On January 1st, I cracked open the Notes app on my phone and wrote down my “Small Joyful Things in 2025”.
The premise was simple. There was no pressure or rules to follow – no set amount I had to write in a day, week or year. I was just to add an item when I felt compelled to.
It was a little tricky at first. I wasn’t in the habit of doing it, and so there are days, even weeks, when I didn’t put anything at all, and sometimes I’d second-guess myself about whether they were important enough to include.
But over the coming months, I started to notice things. I began picking up on common threads. Threads that I inevitably pulled on to discover more about myself until I started actively searching for those spools of happiness myself (yes, embroidery made it on the list).
I didn’t start the list with any intention to write about it or share it anywhere. This list was just for me. I hoped to train myself to make time for the things that bring light to my day in between the stresses of work and life.
I sat down one day in December to go through the list and look back over the year, as we all tend to do. I realised that, as wholesome as these unrelated items are, I wanted some clear takeaways for me to bring into 2026.
But scrolling through the 256-odd items, I was instantly overwhelmed and decided the only way to make sense of it was to turn to our trusty friend ChatGPT. And the results? They were better than any therapist I’ve ever had.
I started by asking it to identify any patterns or recurring themes, and if there were topics I kept repeating without realising.
Describing it as a “beautiful record of the year”, ChatGPT explained that the great outdoors was a “very dominant” source of happiness for me. I roughly mention nature in its various forms between 70 and 80 times over the year. From winter walks on the beach to looking out over Scottish lochs, the source of my joy comes from calmness and “awe without spectacle”.
With roughly 60 mentions, food and drink were also one of the biggest categories on my list (no surprises there!). I enjoy “elevated comfort” and “the simple staples done well”. My simplest pleasures came from drinking coffee from a flask, cinnamon buns, egg sandwiches, apple crumble (mentioned twice), and spicy margaritas (mentioned twice, could have been more).
I enjoy observing people – especially small, kind exchanges between them. Music, TV and Film also massively featured. Creativity is also important to me – taking pictures, my watercolour book, pottery painting, but ChatGPT observed that it was more about the process than the outcome.
‘Home, Comfort and Reset moments’ also came up very frequently since they make me feel safe and give me a sense of control over my environment. In fact, from putting on new sheets to reading under the covers, I mentioned my bed a staggering 8 times.
In short, the joy I found in 2025 came from the quiet moments where I’m observing people, or I’m grounded by my surroundings. My happiness comes from building small but repeatable rituals. As ChatGPT describes it was a year of “learning how to stay, rather than chase”.
None of this came as a massive surprise to me – or you, I’m sure – they are all basic human moments that are highly relatable.
From here, I’ve been able to adapt my morning routine so that it’s slower and more suited to my true pace.
The joy can continue into the New Year now that I’m armed with a handy checklist to tick off with items spanning everything from lighting a candle and watching Gilmore Girls to eating an M&S picnic in a park.
I take pride that I know myself pretty well – ChatGPT’s analysis all but confirmed that. However, there was one lesson it shared that caught me quite off guard.
After it analysed my list, it prompted me to dig into my boundaries. At first, I couldn’t see the relevance, but I was curious all the same.
“Gently and clearly”, it observed that the boundary I was “leaking the most” was “giving away my slowness to other people’s pace”.
From my seemingly unrelated list of joys, it had observed that I was finding joy from low-effort connections, soft ordinary moments, and being present rather than productive.
Without even realising, some of my entries were also pointing to some of the pressure I had been feeling. For example, I mentioned the relief I felt logging off from Teams one Friday or the happiness I felt from restoring order to my environment, like filling up my fridge with prepared food or finally having done the dishes.
“They aren’t just joys, they’re recoveries,” ChatGPT explained, “which suggests your default environment often runs faster, louder, and more urgent than you do.” (Well, I do work in news!)
They’re not dramatic violations, but they are “small and constant” oversteps of this crucial boundary, which lets urgency spill into my mornings and causes me to absorb other people’s stress without meaning to. Joy then becomes something I recover from rather than something that runs through my day.
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As ChatGPT poetically put it, my rest feels more like a collapse rather than nourishment. I apparently don’t need harder boundaries, I just need earlier ones – to protect my peace before the pace picks up.
So, why did I turn my wholesome, joyful list into a life lesson that I have now shared with the world?
Well, I hope that if there’s someone out there who does relate to this article, and its lesson finds them. There’s power in observing the things that bring you joy – even more in making space for those things in your life. But remember – even the small joyful moments paint a big picture.
