As We Go Into the New Year, Here are a Couple of the Things I’ve learned in 2025
2025 has been one of the biggest years of my life. Even above it being big, it was loud and transformative. It was telling. I mean, I could come up with a thousand words that all have similar definitions to describe how my year has been. Only in reflection, have I sat in front of my mirror and thought about it: two-thousand-twenty-five. The long, but wildly brief, twelve months between Decembers. And all I can think about is how a year ago I never would’ve thought my life would end up the way it is today. Today, December 31st is the last day I’ll be in the year I became an adult; the year I moved away from home; the year I said many goodbyes and hellos; the year that has been utterly, utterly life-changing. So I guess there really is only one way to describe it, and that is in simple terms: that it, 2025, was life-changing. After having a year like this, I’m not sure what else a year could be. Because shouldn’t our lives always be in transit? In progress? In reform? Shouldn’t they always be changing?
I’ve thought a lot about this blog post and how I would close this chapter I have written this year. I think I’ve chosen something very meaningful in its capacity to give my readers insight into who I have become in the wake, and wreck, of this year. I have chosen to create a list for you, of all the things I’ve learned over the past 365 days of life. Of living. It is up to you what you choose to do with the list, it is in no way an assignment for my readers or a criticism of my life or a list of regret. It is actually quite the opposite. It is a celebration of my mistakes, my trials, and my triumphs. And hopefully from it, you can internalize all of yours as well. In reflection is where we learn.
At the end of the day, the New Year “turn-of-the-clock” and “change-of-the-calendar” should be a celebration, not a judgement, of oneself. We so often are focused solely on what’s ahead, what’s to come, and we forget about how far we’ve come to get where we are now. So today, I hope everyone sits with themselves long enough to at least admire one thing about their life that the past versions of themselves would’ve never assumed to be true. Remember, we are with ourselves for the entirety of our existence. And to grow every year from the inside-out, is one of our greatest gifts.
And now, here is my list, not in entirety, but as a start, from the life I lived in 2025:
Self-advocacy depends not on confidence or volume, but on courage and maturity. Speaking up for yourself does not have to look like a scheduled conversation, or confrontation, or a long paragraph to send. Sometimes all it takes is a small act of silence or removal or reservation to make yourself, or even your absence, heard. Self-advocacy is never, never, an immature practice. Nor can it be belittled by those you are standing up against. Self-advocacy is a show of strength in whatever capacity you use it.
Friendship, true friendship, is felt internally. When choosing and building friendships, pay attention to how a friendship makes you feel. Do you like yourself when you are around them? Is it easy? Is it light? My greatest friendships, most of them fostered this year, are full of nothing but silliness, I mean pure silliness, and mutual love. There is never room for competition, never judgment, nor gossip…and I say that honestly. When in the presence of my friends, I feel not only seen by them but most importantly, I feel this freedom to be myself. There’s nothing quite like having friendships that are independent and individualistic, meaning everyone can be who they are without the pressure of expectation or of performance.
The only way to find out what you like is to find out what you don’t! Through contrast! My mom always says that from contrast, we learn what we truly want. Whether that means in the contrast of environments, you realize you are a warm-weather person, or in the contrast of relationships, you realize you can’t do long-distance. All hold the same sentiment true. Contrast gives us perspective. It allows our brains the option to choose. And that choice is often decided when we choose what is best for us, or what feels best for us.
Try to escape yourself sometimes. Place those thoughts on a leaf and send it downstream! This is one of the greatest pieces of advice I’ve received all year. If you are an overthinker, like me, it can be especially hard in moments to outrun your own mind. It is an overwhelming phenomenon. And it results in this feeling of being out of control of your own self. To combat this, I was told once to place every thought that enters into my brain (if repetitive, unproductive, unkind to myself, or judgemental) on an imaginary leaf in my head and watch it flow downstream away from where I stood on the imaginary bank. This is an incredibly grounding, meditative process. It continuously brings me back to the present if my mind starts to wander. And more times than one, I’ve used it to tip-toe back to the truth in situations and of myself.
Sometimes it is out of our control if we get hurt at the hands of other people. And sometimes it doesn’t make any sense why we were hurt to begin with. Inevitably, it will happen. A friend, a spouse, a boss, a teacher…when we are in contact with others, we are always at risk of being hurt. That is a vulnerable position to be in, but vulnerability doesn’t equate weakness. It is a risk that is always worth it, even, even if we get hurt AND we are unable to understand or grapple with why.
Self-sabotage is REAL. When we really don’t want to be the perpetrator of pain, the breaker of a heart, or the dealer of hurt, sometimes we sabotage relationships or events in other ways so that they find an end. We become mean. We say hurtful things. We push them away. All out of this fear of hurting someone, but really, instead out of fear of hurting ourselves more. It is so painful to hurt someone you love. It is so hard. So we decide that it is easier to be left than to do the leaving. It is easier to hate than to be hated. It is just easier sometimes to sabotage than to have to act.
In the aftermath of heartbreak, allow yourself to start over. Let your friends hold your hands. Re-open a book you loved. Re-teach yourself to brush your teeth and walk your way to work. Talk to yourself in the mirror. Take it so slowly that you have to be with yourself for every single step of the way. You have to walk through the wounds. You have to cry. You have to learn to articulate how you are feeling. You get to practice the smallest parts of your day, building up to what you can handle. Eventually, you’ll get up in the morning and you won’t remember your routine before. You’ll have created a new one. An independent one.
It is okay to outgrow those you love and the place you love while still remembering it for what it once was to you. I won’t use the word “normal” to describe this and instead I will say that it is entirely okay. Tell yourself it is okay. There is always a time for this, and that time varies from person to person, from place to place. But out-growth is a part of life, and too, a part of growing up. Sometimes it is sad to loosen our grip on how tightly we hold people and places in memory, but if we hold onto something so tight that is no longer better in person than in memory, we may miss what we have now, and what could be ahead.
Be authentic! You don’t have to know yourself, or have found yourself, to be authentically you. This is so commonly misunderstood. Authenticity lies more in character than in anything else. For me, authenticity looks like kindness and compassion even when I don’t feel like it. Authenticity looks like leading with my core values: humor, flexibility, genuineness, health, and commitment. It looks like positivity. It looks like filling my cup only with what feels good…with what suits me…with what is authentic. Naturality is a good synonym for authenticity.
Life is full of what you choose to focus on. Surround yourself with whatever inspires you, motivates you, supports you, and again, makes you feel good. Take the time to shift your perspective. My grandpa has been going through chemo treatment and has had a difficult past few months of health. My parents have been his care-takers along with my grandma, my Nonna. They have every right to say that they are continuously tired, frustrated, sad, and scared, but somehow they never do. In fact, my mom calls this time she’s gotten “the greatest gift” because of how she can be with him, how she can support him. She gets to be by his side for the rest of his life. And even afterwards, she’ll get to say, I was with him all that time…laughing about the hospital visits, remembering the sleepless nights, forever holding onto this time that in another situation she might not have gotten.
Contentness can be boring. Contentness in being alone. Contentness in life not being “exciting.” Being content can be boring. But this doesn’t always mean you have to make your life difficult or find something to disrupt it. Sometimes life simply is. Just waking up content. Just going about your day. Lately in contentness, I’ve found such peace. No chasing. No searching. No seeking or yearning for someone or something to uproot me in my equilibrium. I’ve chosen to completely love my “boredom.” Life that is boring is sometimes also really, really good.
There is no need to fix everyone and everything. You have to let people live. You have to let people come to you. You have to let people be. You have to let people choose.
Everything, every hurt, every break, every moment in time will pass eventually. Although it is annoying to hear, time is the greatest healer. Everything will heal over time. One of my favorite Lumineers lyrics is “all this too shall pass,” because in time, with time, all of the heaviness we feel drifts. The rocks in our backpacks lighten. We move on over time. We grow over time. It is something we can always rely on: that time will pass us by.
And with that, I wish everyone a happy, happy new year and a happy holiday! As we enter into 2026, I hope we all remember that life is not a waiting period. It is meant to be filled with all of this living and learning.