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The end of 2025
The year is drawing to a close, and that always pulls me into reflection. Even if my husband keeps pointing out that the end of a year is arbitrary, marked at a technically incorrect point in time. He’s not wrong. Still, I like the ritual and the pause it forces. A moment to ask what we achieved, what happened around us, what needs care, and what we should leave behind.
This year felt stagnant. Not boring. Certainly not easy. More like treading water, and slowly realising the water was winning.
There is a deep exhaustion here, one that needs addressing in the future.
We built a dream home. Fought for it with everything we had, including in court. In the end, we had to accept that some things matter more than limestone and mortar. Even though it was our choice, I grieve for what should and could have been.
My world narrowed to work and the house, and very little else. We already knew that wasn’t how we wanted to live, but Hass’ heart attack brought it into immediate focus. Life is short. Material things are comforting, but connection to nature, the cats, other people, and to each other matters more.
I also decided to seek a diagnosis in the coming months. Hass is convinced I’m neurodivergent, and I’m starting to agree with him. I’ll let the doctors cast the final vote.
Somewhere along the way, I realised how much I miss my art. My writing. My ability to notice beauty in small details. I’ve been too busy, too tired, too focused on making things work to be as creative or as observant as I want to be. In the last few months, I tentatively picked up writing again, and while I’m glad I did, it’s not enough and another sign that something needs to change.
On the upside, after years, I finally changed my name and have the paperwork to prove it. A win at last.
Hass’ heart attack also means a change in very practical ways. Food. Movement. Alcohol. I’m not saying we’ll stop experimenting with cocktails entirely, but wine will likely appear more often on the table than spirits, if at all.
So, in summary, 2025 was yet another shit year. Hard truths. Heavy decisions. Grief for a home we had to let go of. Fear for life itself. Big losses, but also small wins. Gratitude for being given more time together and, if I’m honest, for understanding our relationship on a different level.
Maybe this was the stage where the caterpillar dissolves into pulp, where one has to decide again what life is supposed to look like and who they want to be before they can change yet again. Let’s see. Maybe 2025 was the cocoon, and 2026 will be the year of colors and wings.
So that just leaves the New Year’s resolutions. I’m keeping them simple, because complexity hasn’t exactly been my friend lately.
1. I will keep curious, with an open mind and an open heart.
2. I will allow myself to get rest when needed.
3. I will choose presence, especially with the cats and the people who matter.
Do you have any reflections or resolutions to share?