My New Year’s Lesson
There are moments in life that shake you awake.
Moments that quietly whisper, “This is not the life you want…”
For me, that moment came on December 31st last year.
The day I realized that no corporate title, no monthly salary, and no “position” was worth sacrificing the people who loved me the most.
The New Year’s Eve That Changed Everything
Last year, December 31st was not fireworks, music, or celebration.
It wasn’t even peaceful.
It was stress. Deadlines. ERP closing. Month end chaos.
While most people were getting ready to welcome the new year. Planning dinners, preparing homes, and enjoying time with their families, I was stuck at my corporate desk, trying to finish everything before the system locked.
I left office late in the evening.
No early wrap up.
No chance to go home and get prepared for the New Year’s Eve dinner my family hoped for.
No time to breathe.
Instead of going out for family dinner, I rushed to pick up takeaway food.
My family wanted a proper 31st night dinner together, but I simply couldn’t do it.
And yes… they were upset. Not because they didn’t understand. But because this wasn’t the first time work overshadowed a moment that should have been ours.
The Moment That Broke Me
When I finally reached home it was past lunchtime & everyone was quiet.
My family wasn’t angry anymore…
They were disappointed.
To them, I wasn’t a corporate executive.
I wasn’t the “in-charge of a department.”
I was simply their mom and wife.
And that day, I couldn’t fulfill the role they needed me to play.
The breakfast didn’t feel special.
New Year’s morning didn’t feel warm.
The whole day felt incomplete for them.
And honestly… it felt incomplete for me too.
That was the moment I realized
I was giving the best of me to my job, and only the leftovers to my family.
The Pressure Didn’t End There…
After coming home tired and mentally drained, there was no rest waiting for me.
January 1st breakfast in Sri Lankan homes is special.
Kiribath, a beautifully set table, blessings for the year ahead, it’s a tradition we cherish.
I was exhausted… but I still prepared it.
Half-asleep, half-stressed, thinking about the next morning at the office.
Because as the department in-charge, I had to be at office sharp at 8.30 a.m.
Corporate rituals.
Traditional ceremonies at workplace.
Month-end responsibilities.
Another full day of work.
That’s how my new year started.
No joy.
No peace.
No time with the people who mattered.
The Hardest Decision I have Ever Made
When I finally resigned, many of my lady colleagues especially the ones who were mothers and wives told me,
“You’re brave… we don’t have the courage to leave a fixed salary.”
And I understood that.
It is scary.
Choosing uncertainty over security is not easy.
But choosing peace… choosing myself… choosing my family… that felt right.
I wasn’t choosing to “stay home and do nothing.”
I was choosing a life that gave me space to breathe, to grow, to build something of my own. And to be present for the people who actually need me.
And here I am today still surviving, still working, still building, but on my own terms.
What That New Year Taught Me
Looking back now, I’m almost grateful for that chaotic New Year’s Eve.
It shook me.
It made me question the life I was blindly holding onto.
1. A job can replace you in minutes but your family can’t.
No corporate system cares if you missed dinner or cried in your car.
2. Traditions matter, not because of the food, but because of the people.
Kiribath is just rice but the memory lasts a lifetime.
3. Women carry silent burdens that the world does not see.
Work deadlines, home duties, cultural expectations, emotional responsibilities all stacked on one pair of shoulders.
4. Sometimes, your heart knows the truth long before your mind accepts it.
Mine whispered for months but I only heard it on December 31st.
5. A new year should feel like a beginning not another day of stress.
We deserve joy on the first day of the year… not exhaustion.
This Year, I’m Doing It Differently
This year, my new year won’t start with ERP closings, rushed takeaways, or guilt.
It will start with peace, family, laughter, and a breakfast table I can actually sit and enjoy.
I want to walk into 2026 with a heart that feels light not burdened.
And I hope, if you’re reading this and carrying your own silent battles, you give yourself permission to choose what truly matters.
Not what society expects.
Not what a company demands.
Not what tradition forces.
Choose what makes your soul feel at home.
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