An honest reflection on what was, and what comes next
When I think about 2025, the words that come to mind aren’t celebratory or shiny. They’re heavier than that. Exhausting. Weighty. A year shaped by loss and the quiet, uncomfortable work of finding new normals.
It started at the end of February, when we lost my Grandma while Nigel and I were on a cruise to Spain. Grief doesn’t care about timing or location, and that moment cracked something open that never quite closed again. As the year went on, more pieces fell away. A friendship ended in the fall. Then in late November, we said goodbye to Navi. Each loss was different, but the pattern was the same. I kept having to adjust to a version of life that no longer included what I had leaned on before.
What makes this harder to reconcile is that this is not how I thought 2025 would look at all.
I expected growth. Prosperity. Momentum. I was riding high from earning my first real incentive trip and having my best sales month ever. After not traveling for over twenty years, Nigel and I had two cruises planned. It felt like the beginning of a season that was finally fun and adventurous, not just responsible and survival-based. Everything pointed toward expansion.
Instead, 2025 asked different things of me.
One of the hardest realizations this year forced on me was admitting that I haven’t been working at my full potential. Caring for my Grandma gave my days structure and purpose outside of my business, and when that role disappeared, so did my sense of stability. I panicked. I started questioning whether I needed to find a “real” job and walk away from what I thought I had built. And in that fear, I saw something clearly for the first time. My business wasn’t as solid as I believed it was. Not because it couldn’t be, but because too much of it was padded with excuses instead of consistent action.
That’s a difficult thing to say out loud. But it’s true.
2025 brought me to my knees more than once. It has been one of the hardest years I’ve ever faced. And still, buried underneath the grief, the fear, and the exhaustion, it showed me something else too. I am resilient. I can learn from what hurts. And I don’t have to stay held back by the stories I’ve been telling myself.
What I’m Keeping
If 2025 taught me anything, it’s that not everything that survives a hard year deserves to be carried forward. Some things linger out of habit. Others earn their place.
I’m keeping clarity. Loss has a way of stripping life down to what actually matters, and I don’t want to lose that awareness just because things eventually feel easier again. I’m keeping the understanding that my time, energy, and attention are not unlimited resources. They need direction, not guilt.
I’m keeping responsibility. Not for the expectations I place on others, but for myself. I don’t control how anyone else shows up, reacts, or chooses to move through their life. What I do control is my own effort, my follow-through, and the choices I make when no one is watching. That kind of responsibility feels grounding instead of heavy.
I’m also keeping resilience. The quiet kind that shows up even when confidence is shaky. The kind that learns instead of withdrawing.
And I’m keeping experiences. After holding onto so much guilt this year, especially around not being physically present during my Grandma’s final weeks, I’m choosing to release that weight. Nigel and I have another long cruise planned in February, this time to Hawaii, and I’m going into it without apology. Life doesn’t pause for grief, and joy doesn’t require permission.
I’m allowed to live fully and still honor what I’ve lost.
What I’m Releasing
One of the hardest beliefs I’m working to let go of is the idea that I’m not good enough or worthy enough to build a business or lead a team. That voice has been loud this year, especially when things felt unstable or uncertain. But it doesn’t actually match the evidence.
If I weren’t capable, I wouldn’t be where I am now. Growth doesn’t happen by accident, and neither does leadership. I’m learning to stop measuring my worth by perfection or pace and start acknowledging progress for what it is.
I’m releasing the habit of letting fear write the narrative. Fear that tells me to play smaller. Fear that convinces me I need permission before taking up space. Fear that turns hesitation into excuses and calls it caution. Those stories may have felt protective once, but they don’t serve the direction I’m choosing now.
And I’m releasing the belief that discipline has to look flawless to count. My word for 2025 was discipline, and while I didn’t live it perfectly, I tried. I showed up with intention, even when consistency wavered. That effort matters. Growth doesn’t require perfection. It requires persistence.
Looking Toward 2026
My word for 2026 is GROW.
Not rushed. Not performative. Just steady, intentional growth with roots instead of pressure. I want to grow in confidence, in consistency, and in my belief that I’m allowed to want more and work for it.
I don’t have every step mapped out yet, and I’m okay with that. What I do have is clarity. Continuing to grow means continuing to show up, even when doubt whispers. It means choosing action over excuses and curiosity over fear.
2026 doesn’t need to be louder than 2025. It just needs to be more aligned.
Closing
As I unwrap this year and set it down, I’m not doing it with bitterness or regret. I’m doing it with gratitude for what it taught me and respect for how hard it was. Some things are staying. Some things are being released. And what comes next will be built with more awareness than ever before.
Beyond the scent, beyond the noise, beyond the doubt, I’m still here.
And I’m growing.
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