2025: A Year of Quiet Unbecoming

 End of Year Reflection & Recap

What even was 2025?!

I started 2025 in love. The gentle kind. The kind that feels like safety before it learns fear. The kind where holding hands still means something. I was happy, blissfully so, and unaware of how fragile that version of me was. I also started the year believing in myself loudly. I tried to build things. Businesses. Ideas. Futures. Two of them ended before they even began. Another taught me that effort doesn’t always equal success. I dipped my toes into agriculture, hopeful and curious, only to learn that growth is never guaranteed, even when you do everything right.

That relationship I began the year with ended. Then it ended again.
And the second ending hurt differently, heavier, quieter. Not because the love wasn’t real, but because it was. Because sometimes two people can love honestly and still fail each other. There’s a grief that comes with that kind of ending that doesn’t ask for witnesses. It just sits with you.

If I’m honest, 2025 became a year of mourning. Not just the relationship or the failed projects, but the girl I used to be. The softer one. The one who trusted easily. The one who thought effort would always be met halfway. No one prepares you for the mental weight of realizing you’ve changed, that innocence doesn’t come back, and that growth often feels like loss before it feels like strength. 2025 is also the year I also let go of toxic familial relations. Now that was hard, so hard I almost stayed, but there are things you just can't live with. There were days I felt unrecognizable to myself. And yet, resilience showed up.

Quietly.
In a way, I didn’t break when I thought I would.
In the way of things, that which once would’ve destroyed me only slowed me down.
This was the year I learned how to be gentle with myself, not as an aesthetic, but as survival. I stopped punishing myself for not having it all together. I let myself rest. I let myself feel without demanding closure. My mental growth this year was undeniable. Pain still came, but it no longer owned me.

I also learned how to listen to criticism, to correction, and to voices that once felt threatening. I learned that being open doesn’t mean being weak and that growth sometimes sounds like discomfort. I stopped taking everything personally, and in doing so, I gave myself room to evolve. I forgave more and became more understanding of people's situations. I also asserted my boundaries more, which utterly felt oddly pleasing.

My faith, though, has been on a weighing scale. Some days steady. Other days heavy with doubt. I questioned God more than I praised Him. I wondered where He was in the waiting, in the loss, and in the unanswered prayers. But even in the uncertainty, I never fully walked away. I stayed. And I’m learning that staying, even quietly, is a form of belief.

What surprises me most about 2025 is the peace I found within myself. A grounded, unshakeable kind of peace. Not because life got easier, but because I did. Even when things felt like they were burning around me, something inside me remained calm. Rooted. Still.

This year became about self-development in ways I didn’t expect. I learned new skills. Tried strange things. Followed curiosity instead of certainty. I discovered interests that excited me and let go of paths that no longer fit. I allowed myself to change without rushing to explain who I was becoming. Additionally, I rediscovered my love for music and baking, i indeed baked my heart away. I rediscovered so many classics and my love for classics and the nostalgia they brought (for you by Kenny Lattimore, I need this song injected into my veins).

I was confused, used, hopeful, tired, and faithful one day and doubtful the next; maybe this is what growing up actually looks like. Not having it all figured out, but learning how to sit with yourself honestly. Learning how to grieve who you were while making space for who you’re becoming.

2025 didn’t give me everything I wanted.
But it gave me depth. Softness. And a quieter confidence. And maybe that’s enough for now.