The Year I Forgot My Word (and the Universe Broke My Wrist)
Before you leap into a brand new year, do me one favor: Don’t skip the one thing that can change everything. I did that once — I skipped choosing my word for the year — and let’s just say… the Universe did not let it slide.
Every year, choosing a word — one single word — has shaped my life more than any New Year’s resolution ever has. So the one year I didn’t choose one? Well… that’s when the trouble began.
I was supposed to spend early January in Uruguay like always — barefoot at the beach, surrounded by family and friends, soaking up the summer.
But instead, I was preparing my first big summit speech.
So picture this:
At the beach feeling guilty for not working…
At my desk resenting that I wasn’t at the beach.
I wasn’t present anywhere.
Not in my body.
Not in my joy.
Not even in the excitement of this new opportunity.
And when you drift that far from yourself, life sends a message.
If you ignore the whisper… it becomes a shove. My shove came as a nighttime trip-and-fall that ended with a broken wrist.
Yes — my wrist.
The Universe basically said, “Mi amor… sit down before you trip again.”
Suddenly, I was in a tiny local hospital wrapped in the heaviest, most old-fashioned cast you can imagine — too heavy to sleep, definitely not beach-friendly, and absolutely impossible to rush through.
That’s how my word found me that year: Presence.
And wow… did I learn presence. The hard way. The slow way.
A story about presence, broken plans, and the one small ritual that keeps bringing me back to myself — one word at a time.
The “you literally can’t rush anything with a giant cast on your arm” way.
Here’s the twist: That elusive speech — the one I struggled to write because I wasn’t present at all — became my signature talk for the entire year.
Breaking my arm and losing my presence became the story that brought me back to myself… and people felt it.
They loved that talk because it was honest, messy, and real. Because a word becomes an anchor — even when the waters get wild.
For 2025, I chose Expansion, and expanded I did — through loss, through growth, through rebuilding, through grace.
Not the easy kind of expansion… the meaningful kind.
What choosing a word has taught me. A single word can guide you, steady you, and reconnect you to yourself — long after the New Year glitter settles. If you want to choose yours for 2026, try this:
Feel it — don’t think it.
A good word sounds nice.
The right word hits you in the body.
Notice what you’re craving.
Not checkboxes — feelings.
That’s where your word lives.
And truly… let the word choose you.
It will show up in conversations, nudges, synchronicities — whispering, “Grow here.”
I still haven’t chosen mine for 2026… but I can feel it circling.
Have you chosen yours?
Hit reply — I absolutely love reading them.
Wishing you a year full of blessings — even the ones that come wrapped in terrible packaging at first.
With love and a wide-open heart for 2026, Noel
