Where I’ve Been — A Look Back on 2025.
Hey!
I haven’t really known where to start when it comes to sharing content on here, so… I’m just gonna START.
2025 was rough.
Like — really rough.
I was, quite literally, sick and tired.
Looking Back at 2025
I recently finished my End-of-Year Review, and I’ve gotta be honest — reviewing 2025 was hard.
It was heavy.
It was a lot.
There was so much sickness. So many migraines. So much pain, frustration, heartache, and struggle. It was just… a reallyhard year.
My word for 2025 was HOPE — and I’ve always had a bit of a love/hate relationship with that word. I don’t hate hope, exactly… but I’ve spent a lot of years feeling let down when the things I hoped for never came to fruition or fell apart completely.
Hope and I have had a tricky relationship.
And then… 2025 happened.
Life felt fragile. I had to hold my plans, goals, and dreams very loosely. I spent more time laying down than standing up. Everything felt stripped down to the bare minimum.
That’s honestly the best way I can describe my health this past year: stripped down.
I never knew how I was going to wake up — okay-ish or completely wiped out. I needed enormous amounts of sleep. Migraines lasted for days. Random nausea would come out of nowhere. Tachycardia knocked me flat anytime I overdid it. Some days, just going to the grocery store was too much.
I didn’t know if I could drive the kids to school and get groceries on the same day.
I didn’t know if I could cook dinner or if Alex would be picking up freezer pizzas again.
I didn’t know if I’d wake up feeling fine… or like I was going to pass out.
I’m not sharing this for pity — it’s just been my reality.
What I Learned When Everything Was Stripped Away
Here’s what I’ve learned:
Hope changes when your capacity gets stripped away.
I learned that even when nothing feels good or easy… God is still good.
I learned to put my hope in God — not in outcomes, not in plans, not in the version of life I wanted to force into existence.
I let go of almost everything:
I let go of how I wanted things to turn out
I stopped putting my hope in outcomes
I stopped putting my worth in what I do or how I show up
Honestly, I didn’t have a choice. I was so sick that I couldn’t do or perform or prove anything.
I was pushed into full-bodied surrender through chronic illness — and that kind of surrender changes you forever.
Where I’m Standing Now
As I close out this year, here’s where I find myself:
Stripped of excess
Refined by fire
Deeply humbled by dependence
This year felt like the WORST kind of exposure therapy. 😜 I had no choice but to let go. And while it was awful — and I never want a repeat — it was also incredibly growth-filled. My perspective on life has probably changed forever.
And now, I can honestly say this:
I’m here. I’m hopeful — but hope is different than what I thought it was. And I’m ready for whatever God wants to bring my way next.
Whatever God wants for me, chooses to bless me with, or asks me to walk through… I’m ready to face it head-on.
The Lesson I Didn’t Know I Needed
The biggest lesson I’ve learned is this:
My work is not my worth.
I didn’t realize how deeply that belief was embedded until I couldn’t work.
I can’t tell you how many mornings I woke up only to lay back down again. How many times Alex came home from a long day at work and immediately took over laundry, dishes, and dinner because I couldn’t. How often I apologized for not being able to do what felt like my share.
When you literally cannot be defined by your productivity, you’re forced to ask some hard questions:
Who am I without my work?
Without accomplishments?
Without anything to prove that I’m valuable?
I’m still working on answering those questions. But I know they’re worth asking.