Goodbye to 2025

It always sneaks up on us, doesn’t it? Those moments where the year suddenly feels like it’s slipping through your fingers. Somehow, most of us already started waving goodbye to 2025 and turning toward 2026, quietly wondering when time learned to move this fast.

it’s the in-between moments, the quiet pauses, where you finally just realize how much has happened. How much you’ve lived, gained, learned, lost, messed up, tried again… how much still waits just beyond the edge of what you can see.

I’ve been thinking a lot about young professionals - people like me trying to find their place in a world that doesn’t slow down for anyone. That thin line between who we want to be and who the world tells us to be… we’re all trying to walk it without losing ourselves. So, you start noticing how strange this phase of life actually is. Some feel ahead, some feel behind, some are restarting the whole thing later in life, and honestly… I’m a little scared of what’s coming next too.

In all this chaos, many of us hold on to something that keeps us steady. For me, that anchor will always be Aviation. Pilot training kept me grounded when my mind spun, and lifted me when nothing else did. It's my anchor, and younger me would have never believed — even though I dreamed about it — that I’d one day say that out loud. For others, that anchor might be something completely different. Ambition comes in many shapes, and whatever yours is, hold on to it.

It might just be the thing that steadies you when everything else shakes.

While we grow from the people and moments that cross our path, I’ve learned that it’s also important to set boundaries and to protect your energy. Choosing not to care about every little thing—sometimes that’s the real skill we need to learn. Not to shut the world out, but to keep ourselves standing in it.

I hope it gives you comfort, knowing we’re not alone — in any of this. In some odd way, we’re all in the same boat, trying to figure life out as we go. All main characters, just in different stories being written at the same time. Maybe sharing our stories, feelings - being grateful for those people who’ve crossed our paths - might be the quiet thread that helps us learn from one another.

As this year closes, I’m choosing to see myself — and all of us — as in transition, not lost. Becoming, not breaking. Learning to move a little softer, set boundaries a little firmer, and trust that it’s okay to grow at your own pace (with a few faceplants along the way.).

Here’s to 2026 —

to breathing room, to ambition without burnout,

to putting yourself first when you need to,

to the beauty in trying again,

and to knowing we’re all figuring it out as we go.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.