“2024 was a year of goodbyes, quiet growth, and lessons that I didn’t ask for—but here I am, breathing, standing, moving forward.” Those words encapsulate the paradox of navigating a year filled with challenges that stretched me in ways I never anticipated. As I reflect on the past twelve months, I’m struck by how life has a way of stripping away the familiar, forcing us into uncharted territory, and yet somehow, amidst it all, we endure. We grow. We move forward.

The Many Forms of Goodbye

Goodbyes came in many forms this year. Some were expected, like the end of a project or chapter that had naturally run its course. Others blindsided me—relationships that unraveled without warning, opportunities that dissolved like mist, and people I held close who moved on to other phases of their lives. But none of these compared to the two most significant losses: saying goodbye to my father and to a long-term living situation.

Losing my father was a goodbye layered with complexity. Our relationship had been estranged for years, shaped by distance and unspoken words that neither of us fully knew how to bridge. His dementia in the later years only deepened that chasm, leaving me grappling with what could never be resolved. Grief is a strange companion—sometimes loud and all-consuming, other times quiet and creeping. While the weight of his absence has been heavy, it’s often accompanied by the bittersweet ache of what could have been.

Memories of him are fragmented—some filled with warmth, others with the tension of our estrangement. Yet, even in the gaps and imperfections, I find myself honoring the parts of him that shaped me and acknowledging the humanity of his struggles. Navigating life without him is less about finding closure and more about accepting the complexity of our bond while continuing to move forward with compassion and grace.

The end of a long-term living situation added another layer to the year’s transitions. In truth, it was a situation that should have ended long ago, but sometimes we hold onto hope—hope that things will change or  improve, or somehow magically become different. That space wasn’t just a physical place; it was a repository of memories, comfort, and identity. Yet, it also carried the weight of unfulfilled expectations and the quiet erosion of what no longer served me.

Packing up and saying goodbye to the walls that held so much history felt bittersweet, like releasing a chapter I had clung to for too long. But in letting go, I found the beginnings of something new—a chance to redefine home and what it truly means to me. Sometimes, the hardest part of moving forward is recognizing when it’s time to let go, and this year taught me that there is freedom in choosing to step into the unknown.

Quiet Growth: The Subtle Transformation

And oh, the quiet growth. Not the loud, triumphant kind that gets celebrated with champagne toasts and social media accolades, but the subtle, almost invisible kind that happens in the stillness. The growth that looks like choosing to get up and try again, even when you’re exhausted. The growth that feels like tiny cracks forming in a seed’s shell, invisible to the eye but monumental to the seed. This year, my growth wasn’t about achieving big milestones or checking off goals. It was about cultivating patience, resilience, and grace—with others and with myself.

Grieving my father and leaving behind my home taught me to sit with discomfort. It taught me that growth often comes not from the moments of triumph but from the quiet perseverance of simply continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

Lessons in Disguise

There were moments when I questioned the purpose of it all. Why does growth often come disguised as pain? Why do lessons arrive in forms we’d never choose for ourselves? I don’t have all the answers, but what I’ve learned is this: life doesn’t owe us comfort or clarity. It owes us the chance to live, to learn, to love, and to try. And maybe the lessons we resist the most are the ones we need the most. They’re the chisels that carve away the parts of us that aren’t truly us.

Losing my father taught me the fragility of time. Leaving my home taught me adaptability and the importance of creating sanctuary wherever I go. Both lessons came uninvited, but their impact has been profound.

Redefining Strength

This year, I learned to redefine strength. It’s not about powering through or putting on a brave face when your heart is breaking.  It’s in saying, “I need help” or “I don’t know what’s next.” It’s in letting people see your cracks and trusting that they’ll still love you. It’s in giving yourself permission to rest, to grieve, to heal. Strength isn’t about being unshakable; it’s about finding your footing again after the ground has shifted beneath you.

Finding Meaning in the In-Between Moments

One of the most unexpected gifts of this year was learning to appreciate the in-between moments. We live in a culture that glorifies productivity and celebrates the destination, but so much of life happens in the spaces between. It’s in the quiet mornings when you sip your coffee and feel the sunlight on your face. It’s in the deep breaths you take after a good cry. It’s in the mundane routines that ground you when everything else feels uncertain. Those moments may not make headlines, but they’re where life’s richness resides.

In the midst of loss, these small moments became lifelines. A laugh shared with a friend, a comforting meal, a sunrise after a sleepless night—they reminded me that even in grief, life offers beauty.

Moving Forward with Gratitude

Looking ahead, I’m carrying the lessons of 2024 with me. I’m reminding myself that every goodbye creates space for something new. That growth, no matter how painful, is a testament to our resilience. That the lessons we didn’t ask for often lead to wisdom we couldn’t have found otherwise. And most importantly, that moving forward doesn’t mean having it all figured out. It means taking the next step, however small, and trusting that the path will reveal itself.

As I close the chapter on this year, I’m filled with gratitude—not for the hardships themselves, but for the strength they revealed in me. I’m grateful for the people who stood by me, the moments of joy that reminded me what I’m moving toward, and the lessons that, though uninvited, shaped me into someone stronger, kinder, and more whole. Here’s to 2025—a year of new beginnings, continued growth, and whatever lessons life has in store. Whatever comes, I’ll be here, breathing, standing, and moving forward.

Have you ever found yourself on autopilot, just trying to make it through the day? That was my reality for a long time. I was juggling responsibilities, meeting demands, and endlessly pushing through challenges. I didn’t even realize I was in survival mode because it had become my normal. Looking back, I see that I was stuck in a cycle that robbed me of joy, creativity, and connection. What I didn’t know then was that there was another way to live—a way to thrive and to find hope again.

Recognizing Survival Mode

For me, survival mode wasn’t dramatic or obvious. It looked like busyness. I was productive and getting things done: the bills were paid, the pets were cared for, the deadlines were met. On the surface, everything seemed fine. But underneath, I was exhausted, disconnected, and often overwhelmed. I told myself I was doing what needed to be done, but the truth was, I was just trying to stay afloat.

It wasn’t until I started to slow down and really listen to myself that I realized what was happening. I was constantly fatigued, even after a full night’s sleep. I felt disconnected from my own emotions and from the people I cared about most. I had lost my motivation and stopped dreaming about the future. I was living with a “just get through this” mentality that felt like a permanent state of being.

The Power of Hope

Hope didn’t come to me all at once. When you’re stuck in survival mode, hope can feel like an abstract or even unattainable concept. I’d hear people talk about hope and think, “That’s not my reality.” But hope doesn’t demand that you believe everything will magically fix itself overnight. For me, it started with the smallest glimmer—a quiet voice inside that said, “Maybe things can be different.”

It began with imagining small changes: a day where I felt less rushed, a future where I could pursue a dream I had buried long ago. That little spark of hope didn’t change my circumstances immediately, but it changed the way I saw them. It gave me something to hold onto.

My Journey from Surviving to Thriving

Moving out of survival mode wasn’t a single moment or decision; it was a series of small steps and realizations. Each one built on the other, and over time, I began to see the possibility of living a life that felt aligned and fulfilling.

Prioritizing My Well-Being

The first shift for me was recognizing that I couldn’t pour from an empty cup. For years, I had ignored my own needs, thinking it was selfless or necessary. But I learned the hard way that neglecting myself wasn’t sustainable. I started with the basics: getting more sleep, eating foods that nourished me, and connecting with people who weren’t always in a dark, gloomy mood. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t happen overnight, but each small act of self-care reminded me that I mattered.

Reconnecting with My Values

When you’re in survival mode, it’s easy to lose sight of what truly matters. For me, it is taking time to find out what brings me joy and what is most important to me. I began asking myself hard questions: What do I value? What kind of life do I want to create? Slowly, I started aligning my actions with those answers. It gave me a sense of purpose and direction I hadn’t felt in years.

Celebrating Small Wins

I’ve always been my own toughest critic, but part of my journey has been learning to celebrate progress, no matter how small. Did I carve out five minutes to breathe today? That was a win. Did I say no to something that drained me? Another win. Recognizing these moments helped me see that change was happening, even if it felt slow.

Leaning on Support

I’m not someone who likes to ask for help, but I learned that thriving isn’t something you do alone. I started having sessions with a therapist.  I found supportive online communities.  I’m still learning that asking for help isn’t something to feel guilty or ashamed about but I’m working on it.

Discovering Joy

Joy felt like a luxury when I was in survival mode, but I’ve learned it’s essential. I found little ways to bring joy into my life: playing my favorite music while cooking, spending time with people I care about, or revisiting hobbies I had neglected. These moments aren’t extravagant, but they are intentional, and they remind me of what it feels like to truly live.

Setting Intentional Goals

Hope grew when I started setting goals that excited me. They aren’t monumental—just small projects or skills I want to explore. But having something to look forward to reignited my enthusiasm for life and is helping me step out of survival mode.

Practicing Presence

Being PRESENT has been a game-changer for me. It doesn’t erase challenges, but it shifts my focus to what’s abundant and good. Additionally, each day I try to find at least one thing I’m grateful for, no matter how small. This practice has helped me stay grounded and hopeful, even on the hard days.

Thriving as a Lifestyle

This journey hasn’t been linear or easy. There are still days when survival mode tries to creep back in. But I’ve learned that thriving isn’t about perfection; it’s about living with intention and believing in the possibility of a better tomorrow. Hope has become my steady companion—not as a fleeting feeling, but as a way of seeing the world.

The path to thriving isn’t about grand gestures or overnight transformations. It’s about small, consistent choices that add up over time. It’s about finding hope, even in the smallest moments. And before you know it, you might just find yourself living a life that not only sustains you but lights you up from the inside out.

The holidays always seem to bring everything to the surface. The twinkling lights and cheerful music can sometimes feel like a sharp contrast to what’s going on inside. For me, this time of year has often been a season of reckoning—a chance to take stock of where I am and where I want to go. Some years, it’s felt joyful and full of promise. Other years, like now, it feels like I’m starting over, grappling with questions of purpose and how to move forward.

If you’re also navigating uncharted waters this holiday season, let’s take a moment together to reflect and reset. Here’s what I’ve learned about finding grace in the messy process of starting over.

Acknowledging the Messy Bits

This year has been a mix of heartbreak and hope. And while it’s tempting to try and push the tough emotions aside, I’ve realized the only way to move forward is to sit with them for a while. It’s okay to admit that things aren’t perfect. Sometimes, naming the struggles—out loud or in the quiet pages of a journal—can help lighten the load just a little.

There’s something oddly comforting about knowing that so many of us are facing challenges, especially during the holidays. While our struggles might look different, there’s a shared understanding that life isn’t always wrapped up with a bow. And that’s okay.

Drawing the Line

The holidays are infamous for their endless demands. This year, I’m giving myself permission to step back from the things that don’t serve me. Instead, I’m focusing on the things that bring comfort and peace, even if it means creating new traditions or spending some quiet time alone.

I’ve learned that saying “no” isn’t selfish; it’s an act of self-preservation. And when I show up for myself, I’m better able to show up authentically for others.

Gratitude, Even in the Hard Moments

One thing that has helped me is leaning into gratitude, even when it feels hard. It’s not about pretending everything is fine, but about noticing the little things that anchor me—the warmth of a good cup of coffee, a good book, the way the sun filters through the window on a cold morning.

Gratitude has a way of shifting my perspective, even on the toughest days. It’s a reminder that, while some things feel like they’re falling apart, there are still moments of beauty to hold onto.

Asking the Big Questions

The end of the year always feels like a natural time to pause and reflect. I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions lately: What really matters to me? What brings me joy? What kinds of growth will happen in the year ahead?

Sometimes, the answers come quickly. Other times, they feel elusive. And that’s okay too. Purpose isn’t something we discover overnight. It’s something we uncover gradually, like piecing together a puzzle.

Starting Small

When life feels overwhelming, I’ve found that the best way forward is to start small. Some days, it’s as simple as doing something creative or learning something new.

These small steps remind me that I don’t need to have everything figured out all at once. Sometimes, just showing up and doing the next right thing is enough.

Embracing the Blank Slate

Starting over can feel overwhelming, but it’s also an opportunity. It’s a chance to let go of the things that no longer serve us and imagine a new way forward. I’ve been reminding myself that I don’t have to have all the answers right now. The important thing is to keep moving, to stay curious, and to remain open to what’s ahead.

Trusting the Process

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that grace isn’t about getting everything right. It’s about showing up, even when things feel messy and uncertain. It’s about trusting that this season of change is part of a larger story—one that’s still unfolding.

So this holiday season, I’m choosing to hold space for both the hard and the hopeful. I’m giving myself permission to start fresh, to dream again, and to embrace the journey, wherever it may lead.

If you’re also finding your way, know this: You’re not alone. And while the path might be unclear, there’s beauty in the searching. Together, let’s step into this new chapter with courage, compassion, and grace.