What, like it's hard?

I am not just limping into the end of 2025, I am flat on my belly, army crawling through the year’s remaining hurdles, one breaking news alert away from a mental break. This is not a cry for help, so please don’t worry about me. I’m naturally dramatic, and also joking… kind of. But also, what the fuck is going on right now?

I read something about how 2025 is the end of a nine-year numerology cycle and is coinciding with this year of the snake. So, basically, we are shedding all that is to be left behind as we enter 2026 and I’ve gotta say, good riddance. But also, this shit better be worth it.

Again, I’m fine – or I will be. I am writing like this because I KNOW that I am not the only one feeling this way and I want other people to know that they are not alone. The news is darker than the sky at 4:30pm and the to-do lists, calendars, and emotions are overflowing.

Earlier this week, I had a quick check-in with myself to make sure that I was in fact ok. I wasn’t content, but I was functioning beyond depression, and my anxiety was (surprisingly) not an issue. I also came down with a cold this week, which isn’t helping, but I only succumb to illness when it’s mandatory (cancer) or convenient (winter break from college and my mom can take care of me).

No, this is simpler and more obvious: I am physically AND emotionally exhausted. I have spent basically this entire year telling myself that if I get through this week, this month, this season, it will get better, I will get better – and it just didn’t work out that way. And then this week I started thinking about 2026, hoping that next year will be better, and holy negative mental cycle, Batman! Enough!

I don’t know if 2026 is going to better. I hoped 2025 was going to be my year and was diagnosed with cancer less than two weeks in, but that’s not my point. The point is, I am still here. The point is, that despite every asteroid falling at my feet, despite every disappointment and sorrow – I am still here. I survived. And that is worth celebrating.

Now if you are anything like me, you read that and thought to yourself that surviving is the bare minimum and that we are not in the business of handing out participation trophies. But these are not typical times we are living in. If this were 1996 or 2012, I would say, “aim higher,” but this is post-COVID, #45 admin times, and all rules and expectations are null and void.

So, instead of looking forward and making goals, I am urging you to stop for a moment. Not forever, because let’s be real, if you connect with my writing, you are likely a future-focused person, and I’m not trying to make you itchy. But can we appreciate, for just a few seconds, that we have (nearly) survived this entire year? And that is no small feat. Seriously.

I am really, really, not good at giving myself credit for any of my accomplishments. Published a book? So did thousands of other people this year. Survived cancer? That was my doctors, I had very little to do with it. Testified in court against my sexual assaulter? Ok, that one I am super proud of – I hope he’s miserable. The point is, even if all we did was pay our bills and survive (in this economy?), that is plenty.

Before looking forward to 2026, I am asking you to look back. Pause and take stock of all your bumps, bruises, and scars – and then recognize that you survived EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. Then look to your wins, even if you don’t think they are yours to take credit for, or if your inner Elle Woods is asking, “what, like it’s hard?”

Bitch, yes, it’s hard!

Living while being an emotion-feeling person is really fucking hard!

This weekend I am going to tell my inner Ms. Woods to take several seats and then I’m going to make a list of everything I did this year that I am proud of. My own Spotify wrapped of sorts. I encourage you to do the same. Anything that we accomplish next year will be as a result of past efforts. Even if we can’t see the forward momentum, even if all we can see is the road blocks, trust me, the momentum is there.

We ARE growing.

We ARE building.

But every peak needs a strong base.

That said, I would like to let the universe know that I fully believe my base is strong enough to support whatever peak is in store. We’re good here. No more foundational tests required. Please… and thank you.

ID: Two kids playing in the snow. One is throwing a snowball at the other. Edited on top of the photo are arrows pointing to the child throwing the snowball naming them, “2025”. The snowball is labeled, “life”, and the child about to be hit with the snowball is labeled, “me.”