Not Through. With.

How we actually get through hard things

Hi friends,

Hope-y New Year!

The last few months of 2025 were hard. You probably wouldn’t know that from social media—because social media is like that. We curate. We highlight. We show the wins and skip over the days when just getting through feels like an accomplishment.

But in difficulty, things become clear. Clarity, while sometimes painful, is also a gift. And what became clear to me is this: I’ve been thinking about that famous quote wrong. You know the one—“The only way out is through.”

I want to change it.

Not through. With.
With each other. With hope. With the people who choose you and you choose them.

On Turning 50 and Launching Hope Into the World

I’m turning 50 on January 23rd. Four days later, on January 27th, my new book—Hope Is the Strategy—launches into the world. The timing feels significant in ways I’m still processing.

Maybe there is something about that half century mark that makes you take stock. Not in a crisis way, but in a “what actually matters” way. And what I keep coming back to is this: 2025 was very much a caterpillar-in-chrysalis year for me. There’s profound wisdom in not being the butterfly yet. In sitting in the discomfort of transformation while it’s still happening.

Hope isn’t in the transformation being finished. Hope is in trusting the process while you’re still in the dark.

And as we move into 2026—what I’m calling the year of hope—I’m reminded that hope doesn’t live in some abstract future. Hope lives in my circle. With the people who show up, who stay, who believe alongside you even when the outcome isn’t clear yet.

Through Hope vs. With Hope

This distinction—between moving through hope and living with hope—is something I’ve been thinking about a lot as the book gets ready to launch. It’s central to everything I believe about leadership and how we survive (and maybe even thrive) in these uncertain times.

There’s an important difference between what happens through hope and what exists with hope.

Through hope, transformation becomes possible. It creates momentum. It’s the doorway through which change enters. Hope acts as the mechanism that enables other positive developments to unfold. Through hope, we find the initial courage to challenge the status quo, to imagine alternatives to “the way things have always been done.” It’s the catalyst.

And like any catalyst, hope doesn’t disappear or alter after it affects change. This is where the magic happens: with hope, we experience an ongoing state that sustains these changes over time. With hope present as a constant companion, organizations—and people—develop new capabilities that simply cannot exist in environments of fear or resignation.

Let me tell you what I’ve observed when hope becomes a presence rather than just a passage:

With hope, engagement shifts fundamentally. People aren’t just completing tasks anymore. They’re contributing to a meaningful future they can see and believe in. This isn’t about manufactured enthusiasm or forced positivity. It’s about clarity—helping people understand where they fit in the process and what they can expect. This clarity creates psychological investment that changes how people approach their work each day.

With hope, innovation flourishes in ways it simply can’t in fear-based environments. Hope enables people to remain out of what I call “the fearful spot”—that place where we avoid intelligent risks and are afraid to speak our minds. This psychological freedom unleashes creativity that otherwise remains dormant. Ideas flow more freely. Experimentation becomes normalized. Failures transform from career threats into valuable learning opportunities.

With hope, we witness what I consider the most exciting aspect of organizational life: spontaneous collaboration across traditional boundaries. People naturally begin to assist colleagues without being asked, share knowledge without expectation of credit, and solve problems that aren’t “their job.” This happens not because of new processes or incentives, but because hope creates a sense of shared possibility that transcends narrow self-interest.

With hope, people become more resilient and willing to tackle difficult challenges because they feel like they’re in it together, sharing in the journey toward a better future. This collective resilience makes organizations remarkably adaptable. Rather than breaking under pressure, hope-filled organizations bend, learn, and emerge stronger. Teams weather challenges that would have shattered other groups, not because they avoided difficulty but because they faced it together with the belief that they could find a path forward.

The presence of hope doesn’t just change what we do. It transforms who we are at work. It allows us to bring our humanity—our creativity, compassion, and courage—into environments that too often strip these qualities away.

Perhaps the greatest gift of hope is that it doesn’t just make organizations more effective. It makes work more worthy of the human spirit.

What Falls Away, What Remains

In transition—and I’ve been in a big one this past year—much falls away. Relationships that you thought were solid reveal themselves as circumstantial. Plans that seemed certain become optional. Identities that felt core turn out to be borrowed.

But here’s what I’ve learned: so much more can be gained if you let it.

When you stop clinging to what’s leaving, you create space for what wants to arrive. When you stop performing transformation and start actually living it, something real emerges.

When you stop trying to be the butterfly and accept that you’re still in the chrysalis, you can finally rest in the knowing that the process is doing what it needs to do.

You don’t have to rush it. You don’t have to perform it. You just have to trust it. And that trust? That’s hope too.

Not Through. With.

So as I stand here—turning 50, launching a book about hope, reflecting on a year of profound transformation that isn’t finished yet—I keep coming back to this reframe.
We don’t get through hard things alone. We don’t transform through sheer force of will. We don’t survive by gritting our teeth and pushing through.

We do it with each other. With hope as a companion, not just a catalyst. With the people who show up. With the belief that even in the dark, the process is working.

The only way out isn’t through.
It’s with.

With hope. With each other. With the courage to stay in the chrysalis until it’s actually time to fly.

What’s Next

The book launches January 27th, and I’m celebrating with the people and communities that made this possible. I’ll be in my hometown of Miami at Books & Books on Sunday, February 1st (RSVP HERE). And New York in early March—dates and details coming soon. More locations also coming soon. If you want to join, watch this space.

And if you haven’t pre-ordered yet, now’s the time. Not just because it helps with launch week (though it does), but because I genuinely believe this message—that hope is a strategy, not a platitude—is what we need right now.

2026 is the year of hope. Not because everything will be easy or fixed or certain. But because we’ll face it with hope. Together.

Thank you for being in my circle. For staying with me through this transformation—the messy middle included, and for whatever comes next.

With hope (always),
Jen