THE WEIGHT OF 2025

2025 has not been easy for me. If anything, it has stretched me in ways I never imagined a human heart could stretch and remain whole. It has been a year of quiet battles, hidden bruises, and moments where breathing itself felt like a victory. A year where every step forward felt like walking through storm winds, pushing against forces I couldn’t see but constantly felt.

I have been pushing on, not because I always felt strong, but because giving up was never an option. I have been trying to heal softly, patiently, even though healing has often felt like reopening wounds I thought had already scarred over. I have done my best in every space I entered, sometimes pouring out more of myself than I had left, simply because that’s who I am.

This year forced me to confront truths I had avoided for too long. I realized that the things that hurt the most aren’t always big heartbreaks, sometimes it’s the quiet disappointments, the subtle betrayals, the moments when you understand that some people only reach out when they need something from you. It is painful to understand that you can give people your purest intentions, yet they will still choose you only when it serves them. I learned that not everyone who smiles at you carries love for you, and not every “Are you okay?” comes from a sincere place.

When I went back home, I thought the familiar air would comfort me. I imagined I would find peace in the place that raised me. But instead, I was met with memories I had carefully tucked away, memories I had been running from in silence. Walking through those rooms, sitting in those spaces, smelling that old air… it felt like stepping back into the shadows of the pain I endured, the kind that still echoes in my body even when I pretend it doesn’t. I was reminded of wounds that never fully closed, of nights I survived but never truly recovered from, of the little girl inside me who has been trying so hard to be brave for so long.

And when I returned to work, I walked into a different kind of battle, one I never asked for and never saw coming. I realized I had been fighting wars I knew nothing about, wars built on whispers, assumptions, jealousy, and politics I never wanted to entertain. I discovered how far some people will go to push you out of space just to please someone else, how your existence alone can threaten those who never took the time to understand your heart. It is a terrifying thing to realize that you can be targeted for simply being yourself, for your kindness, your work ethic, your quiet strength.

There were days when I felt small, days when I questioned my worth, days when I wondered why life seemed determined to test me repeatedly. But even through those moments, something in me refused to break. Something whispered, you have come this far, you are not done yet.

And so, as this year slowly folds itself away, I find myself looking toward 2026 with cautious hope. I am not expecting perfection, just peace, I am not demanding blessings, just protection. I am asking God to guide me, to place His hand over my dignity and cover me in the moments when the world feels too heavy or too unkind. I pray for clarity, for restoration, for a heart that finally feels safe inside my own chest.

Most of all, for the sake of my mom, the woman whose sacrifices built the foundation beneath my feet, I pray for protection, I pray for God to shield me from anything that seeks to break me, to keep my path covered, and to allow me to become someone she can always be proud of.

2025 may have bruised me, but it did not end me. I am still here, softer, wiser, and stronger in ways I never expected. Beneath the quiet hours, beneath the tears I cried in silence, beneath the fears I never voiced, I found a version of myself who refuses to give up.

And as I step into the unknown of 2026 soon, I will carry with me a simple faith:
that the year ahead will be kinder to my spirit, gentler to my heart, and brighter than the shadows I am leaving behind.


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