What's happening: As we close out 2025, I'm reflecting on a year that tested me in ways I never expected—and taught me even more than I could have imagined.
What you'll find here: My honest reflections on what this year was really about, plus a thoughtful reflection exercise designed to help you honor your own journey without the guilt.
The real talk: This year might not have gone as planned, but that doesn't mean it wasn't exactly what we needed.
Hey {{first_name}},
As I sit here writing this—about to be in recovery, still processing everything that happened—I'm feeling a mix of relief, gratitude, and exhaustion.
Relief that I survived this year and even got to experience moments of thriving amid all the chaos. Gratitude for all the blessings that were mixed in with all the lows. And exhaustion because so much happened, and I'm not sure I've had the time to fully process it all, despite my best efforts.
When I think about what 2025 was really about, one word keeps coming back: community.
There's no single moment that captures this, but rather a thread that runs through every hardship. The brain tumor diagnosis. The chaos and fear in Chicago. The loss of my grandmother. The hip surgery and long recovery ahead. And other dark moments I haven’t even shared. In every single one of these difficult moments, I was never alone.
Yes, it was hard. Yes, it was scary. But there was always someone there. A quick pick-me-up message when I was spiraling. A coffee date when I needed to feel human again. Laughter that reminded me joy still existed even in the middle of everything falling apart.
My community delivered, time and time again.
Here's what surprised me most as I've been reflecting on this year: I'm actually filled with gratitude for my resilience.
I thought there would be resentment. I thought I'd be waiting for the other shoe to drop, convinced my "bad luck wave" wasn't over yet. I thought I'd feel defeated or broken or scared about what else could possibly come my way.
But instead? I feel grateful.
Grateful that I got through it all. Not alone—never alone—but I did get through it. And that gives me confidence to continue tackling whatever else my path has in store.
This year taught me something I didn't know about myself before: I'm really fucking strong, and I can depend on others.
Let me say that again because it's important: I'm strong enough to handle everything that came my way AND I learned it's okay to let my guard down and lean on others.
As the eldest daughter, I've spent most of my life feeling like I need to handle everything on my own. Like asking for help or showing vulnerability somehow makes me less capable or less worthy of the role I've always played in my family.
But this year showed me something different. When I gave the people in my corner the chance to step up, they really showed up. They held me when I couldn't hold myself. And those short breaks of being held? They helped me get back up—which, honestly, was never too long. I just needed someone to catch me for a moment before I was ready to keep going.
🌻 Your 2025 Reflection Exercise
I wanted to create something for you that helps honor your year without the typical guilt-inducing "did you achieve your goals?" energy. These questions are designed to help you see your growth, resilience, and joy—even if your year looked nothing like you planned.
You can ponder these quietly, journal your responses, or even discuss them with someone you trust. There's no right way to do this. Take what resonates and leave the rest.
Set aside about an hour if you can. Get comfortable. Maybe light a candle or make your favorite drink. Let's reflect together.
What moment from 2025 are you most proud of? (It doesn't have to be a "big" accomplishment—sometimes the proudest moments are the quiet ones where we chose ourselves or showed up despite fear.)
Think back to a challenging moment from this year. How did you manage to get through it? What resources (internal or external) did you draw on? Who or what helped you?
What's something new you learned about yourself this year? This could be a strength you didn't know you had, a boundary you needed, or a value that became clearer.
If you could talk to yourself on January 1, 2025, what would you want them to know? What reassurance or wisdom would you offer?
Share a happy memory from this year—get into the details. Where were you? Who was there? What did it feel like in your body? What made it special?
How did you experience or create joy this year, even in difficult times? What brought lightness or laughter when you needed it most?
What did you let go of this year (intentionally or not)? A belief, a relationship, a habit, an expectation? How did that release create space for something new?
If 2025 were the final chapter of a book, how would you frame the "ending"? What's the theme or lesson that ties it all together?
Look through your photos from this year and choose 5-10 favorites. What theme do they share? What story do they tell about what mattered to you?
Take your time with these. There's no deadline, no pressure to have perfect answers. This is just for you—a way to honor the year you lived, not the year you thought you'd have.
As we head into 2026, I'm feeling cautious but hopeful.
Hopeful that this year made me strong enough to keep pushing forward, especially through my recovery. Cautious because this year was a lot, and I don't want to be caught off guard again.
I'd like to say I'm leaving behind my fear—there was so much of it this year—but I'm not sure that's entirely possible. So instead, I'll say this: I'm leaving behind the mindset of "I can't."
If anything, 2025 taught me that I can.
I can survive all sorts of loss. I can navigate major surgery. I can show up for myself even when it's hard. I can ask for help. I can lean on my community. I can keep going, even when the path is full of obstacles.
And to me, "enough" now means something different than it did at the start of this year. It means I am safe, healthy, and here to choose joy. That's it. That's enough.
If you complete this reflection exercise and feel comfortable sharing, I'd genuinely love to hear what came up for you. Hit reply and share one insight or realization from your reflection.
And if you don't feel like sharing, that's okay too. Just know that whatever your 2025 looked like, you made it through. You're here, reading this, still showing up.
That's worth celebrating.
As we close out this year, I'm grateful for this community. For everyone who's been reading along, sharing their stories, and showing up vulnerably in this space. You've been part of my community this year, and that means more than you know.
Here's to 2025—the year that tested us, taught us, and somehow made us stronger. And here's to carrying that strength forward, con ganas y sin pena.
¿Qué dijo? / What did she say?
con ganas y sin pena - with enthusiasm & without shame