No Highlight Reel Required
Closing out 2025.
I didn’t move through this year in straight lines.
I made a sincere attempt.
Life declined.
So I circled things.
Ideas. Decisions. Conversations.
Sometimes with intention.
Sometimes, because apparently I enjoy repetition disguised as reflection.
This year lived at my kitchen table.
Not symbolically. Literally.
Craft projects that spilled out from the craft room to the kitchen table because buying supplies and making things are two very different hobbies. Same with books.
Projects that made sense when I started them and quietly turned on me.
Notes I scribbled fast because I was convinced this thought was important. (Most of them were not.)
Coffee poured. Reheated.
Forgotten. Reheated again.
I wanted clarity this year. Clean clarity.
The kind that doesn’t require journaling, processing, or a second cup of coffee.
What I got instead was revision. And reconsideration.
And the deeply annoying realization that answers do not stick just because I am ready for them to.
Some days, I was done with “the process.”
I didn’t want growth.
I didn’t want lessons.
I didn’t want insight wrapped in metaphor.
I wanted things to be finished.
Not meaningful.
Finished.
There were days I felt behind, even though I know better than to believe that nonsense.
Days where confusion overstayed its welcome.
Days when I wondered if I was moving forward at all or just rearranging the same thoughts and calling it progress.
And yes, there was sadness in it, a lot.
Not dramatic. Not Instagram caption worthy.
The quiet kind.
The kind that sits with you while you make coffee or fold laundry, like it lives there now.
Not asking for attention.
Not leaving either.
I’ve been living in the gaps this year.
The space between what was and whatever this is turning into.
Caregiving. Responsibility.
Showing up when inspiration was nowhere to be found, and motivation sent its regrets.
Trying to be present in my own life while making sure someone I love is safe and comfortable in her final weeks and days. Some days, I handled it with grace.
Some days, I handled it with caffeine and stubbornness.
Both versions of me showed up.
There are things I’m not carrying forward.
Not out of anger or bitterness.
They just don’t fit anymore.
And I’m too tired to keep forcing them.
Some ideas ran their course.
Some expectations were never mine.
Some habits took more than they gave and still dared to linger.
Letting them go felt necessary.
Like finally cleaning out a drawer that’s been stuck for years and realizing half of what’s inside doesn’t belong to you anyway.
What I am carrying forward are the quieter things.
Lessons learned without applause.
The ability to pause before reacting.
The understanding that progress doesn’t always look impressive.
Sometimes progress looks like staying upright.
Sometimes it looks like finishing anything at all and calling it a win.
This year didn’t need a highlight reel.
It needed honesty.
Some things ended without explanation.
Some things faded out slowly. Some days didn’t feel like enough of anything.
Some days, just showing up felt like the only achievement available.
But I did show up.
I kept going.
Tonight, I’m willing to admit it all counts.
I don’t need a big goodbye for 2025.
No countdown.
No fireworks.
No dramatic closing speech.
Just acknowledgment.
This year shaped me in ways I’m still untangling.
I don’t have words for all of it yet, and frankly, I’m done trying to force it.
And if 2026 starts quietly, without excitement, without certainty, without a five-step plan — that’s fine.
I’m starting where I am, at the table.
With unfinished things nearby.
With a fresh cup of coffee that’s still steaming.
And a little sarcasm is left in me, which feels essential to start the new year.
That’s real.
That’s mine.
That’s enough.
My Wish for You
Set this year down gently, even the parts that still ache. The effort you gave was enough — it counts.
Honor what tired you and rest when you can. Keep what helped. Let go of what didn’t.
Go forward as you are. You don’t need to be more ready than this.
Welcome 2026