2025: The Year That Tested Me (and Taught Me Anyway)

If I had to sum up 2025 in one sentence, it would be this: it was a year of endurance.
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Not graceful endurance. Not quiet resilience. Just the kind where you keep going because stopping isn’t an option. This year came with pain—actual, physical pain.  Two injuries took hold of my hip and foot, and anyone who lives with chronic pain knows how it quietly steals energy, motivation, and patience. Movement became harder. Rest never felt like enough. And the mental toll of always “pushing through” added another layer I didn’t expect. As if that wasn’t enough, my husband’s arm and shoulder issues put an early end to our golf season—something we genuinely love and look forward to every year. It sounds small, but those shared moments matter. Losing them felt like another reminder that 2025 had its own plans. Then life did what it does best: threw in the unexpected. My best friend was injured when a golf cart flipped on her, breaking her shoulder. Watching someone you love get hurt is brutal—but what followed was me stepping in to take on her lash clients. I didn’t hesitate. I just did what needed to be done. That decision meant working day and night for most of the year, sacrificing what little free time I had left. Somewhere along the way, exhaustion piled up, stress eating became real, and—let’s be honest—I gained about 40 pounds back. That one stings. But pretending it didn’t happen wouldn’t be honest either.

Professionally, the year was mixed. I met some incredible people—genuinely good, fun, inspiring humans—and that part I’m grateful for. But I also watched my spa clientele slowly disappear, not because of anything I did wrong, but because the economy tightened hard. People lost jobs. People got scared. And yes, political decisions—like Trump’s tariffs on Canada—had ripple effects that hit real people, real businesses, and real livelihoods. Wellness becomes a luxury when survival is the priority. Creatively, I had big intentions. I started my second gluten-free cookbook—something I was excited about and proud of. And then life happened. I made it through Chapter One. That’s it. Part of me felt disappointed, but another part knows that even starting mattered. So yes—2025 had good.
It had bad.

And it definitely showed me some ugly. But here’s the thing: I’m still here. I learned how much I can carry—even when I shouldn’t have to. I learned who I show up for instinctively. I learned that rest isn’t optional, it’s necessary. And I learned that seasons of survival don’t define your future—they simply prepare you for it. As I step toward 2026, I’m not chasing perfection. I’m chasing alignment. Healing. Sustainability. Space to breathe. Space to create again. Space to move without pain. Space to enjoy the things that make life feel lighter—golf seasons, good food, laughter, meaningful work. I’m choosing hope—not because everything is fixed, but because I believe it can be better. 2026 doesn’t need to be loud.
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It just needs to be intentional. And that feels like light enough to follow.

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