01/02/2026
This year broke me in ways I never expected. It stripped away my sense of security, tested my body, and pushed my mind to places I never wanted to visit. There were moments when everything felt unbearably heavy, when I didn’t recognize the life I was living or the person I was becoming.
Losing my job while I was already off work going through cancer treatment was one of the lowest points of my life. At a time when I needed stability, rest, and understanding, it felt like I was discarded. Everything became uncertain all at once, and the fear was constant — fear about my health, my future, and how I was supposed to keep going.
After that, survival mode took over. I worked seven days a week, pushing my body past exhaustion just to pay the bills. There were days where rest felt like a luxury I couldn’t afford. I was tired in ways that sleep doesn’t fix — physically, emotionally, and mentally drained — carrying stress on top of recovery and just trying to make it through each day.
There were dark, deeply depressing moments. Times when the weight of everything felt unbearable and the future felt painfully unclear. In those moments, my rescue cats became more than companions. They were comfort when I felt empty. Warmth when the world felt cold. A reason to get out of bed when everything inside me wanted to disappear. Their quiet presence, their need for me, their unconditional love grounded me when I felt like I was unraveling. They didn’t need explanations. They just knew.
And through it all, I wasn’t completely alone.
This year brought new friendships and strengthened the relationships that truly mattered — the people who showed up, checked in, and didn’t disappear when things got hard. And above all, my partner Brian. His patience, his love, and his steady presence carried me more than he probably knows. When I was exhausted, scared, or falling apart, he stayed. He supported me without judgment, gave me grace on my hardest days, and stood beside me through every high and low, even when things were heavy and messy and unfair.
This year taught me painful lessons. That life can change without warning. That strength isn’t loud or pretty — sometimes it’s quiet endurance. Sometimes it’s just surviving another day when everything hurts. I learned that I am far more resilient than I ever believed, even when I felt completely undone.
As I step into the new year, I’m not carrying resolutions. I’m carrying proof. Proof that I survived loss, illness, exhaustion, and despair. Proof that love showed up for me — through people, through animals, through quiet moments that kept me grounded.
I didn’t come out of this year unscathed.
I came out of it alive — and that alone is powerful.
Stepping Into 2026
I’m entering 2026 changed, but not defeated. The last year tested me in ways I never imagined, but it also showed me what truly matters — and who truly stays.
I’m carrying forward the friendships that were built in honesty and strengthened in hardship, including the unexpected but deeply meaningful bonds formed in the coffee shop. The conversations over cups of coffee, the familiar faces, the small check-ins and shared moments that became a steady source of comfort. Those connections reminded me that community can grow in ordinary places, and that even brief moments of kindness can make a lasting difference.
I’m stepping into this year surrounded by people who know my story, who saw me at my weakest, and who chose to walk beside me anyway. I’m carrying forward love — the kind that showed up consistently, patiently, and without conditions. The love from my partner Brian, who stood by me through uncertainty, exhaustion, and fear, and never made me feel like I had to face any of it alone. The love from the quiet, steady presence of my rescue cats, who reminded me daily that comfort can be simple and unconditional.
2026 isn’t about pretending the past didn’t hurt. It’s about using what I survived as a foundation. I’m bringing with me resilience, boundaries, gratitude, and a deeper respect for my own limits. I’m choosing peace where I can, rest when I need it, and connection over isolation.
I don’t know exactly what this year will bring — but I know who I’m bringing with me. And that makes all the difference.
2026 will be better — not because life will be perfect, but because I’m carrying forward love, community, and strength into everything that comes next.
