the view from here

2025 was the year both my frontal lobe and reality hit.

I feel stuck in limbo between two eras of my life: the one where I’d basked in my reckless youth and lived life in a constant sprint towards the next feat and the one where I savor every moment, recognizing now more than ever just how precious and fleeting life is. I’m still in the thick of my twenties and have lots of life to live and lessons to learn, but something about this stage just feels more real. Emotions and experiences alike feel heavier and I now take longer to ponder over them rather than letting each one roll off my back as I fly through life, jumping from one milestone to the next.

This year I struggled with slowing down. I pushed through things, avoiding cries from my mind, body, and soul to take a beat and breathe. While I’d been able to accomplish a great deal more quickly with this “go go go” state of being, I’d also found it took me longer to get back up when I would get knocked down, figuratively and literally… 2025 was ultimately a humbling year for me.

I no longer want to have tunnel vision, constantly looking ahead towards what’s next and neglecting to turn around and glance at how far along I’ve come to get here. I wouldn’t truly be living my life if I didn’t stop and smell the roses every now and again. Where I began is just as important as where I’m going.

One of my core memories from college were the times when I would climb up to the roof of my ramshackle college co-op housing complex and wistfully gazing at the glimmering San Francisco city skyline ahead. I experienced many breakdowns, blunt rotations, and beautiful moments of solitude up on that roof. It was where I went when I needed inspiration, comfort, or a reminder of where I was headed. I romanticized the city as the place where I would achieve success and live out my young adult years to the fullest. I couldn’t wait to get there and escape the gritty college years and move on to the glitz and glam I’d imagined my big city life to be.

While my city girl experience has been nothing short of fabulous, it wasn’t as rosy as I’d initially imagined it to be. What I’d previously seen as the trials and tribulations of my college years was nothing compared to the trying moments I’d experienced over the course of my post-grad years. Everything is rawer and realer. But, overtime, I learned to love even the lackluster, “in-between” moments just as much as I love the shiny, momentous ones.

I wish I could climb up to the roof of that house again and meet my 19-year-old self up there. I would hold her tight, wipe her tears, and give her some tough love. I would tell her that it doesn’t get easier, but she will become more sure of herself along the way which makes the experience more enjoyable along the way. I will tell her that she will be surrounded by lots of love that makes each moment sweeter, but that she should not lose sight of the fact that self-love is the most sustainable. People will come and go when the time is right, and the only constant will be her, so she should love herself as much as I love her now.

As challenging as this year was, I don’t regret a thing. It showed me resilience and realness. I learned to trust and love myself more than ever before, and I have faith that the years to come will be even better because of this. I have a really good feeling about next year. I am throwing myself into the abyss with my eyes closed and my arms flung wide open.

See you on the other side.

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.” — Maya Angelou