2025

Last night, I met some of my closest friends – people I love; people who have made me feel loved. We talked about our new year’s resolutions: fitness, travel, meeting more frequently. We talked about more personal goals. And I don’t know if it was the wine, the setting, the general gaiety of the season, but I was just so happy.

And that happiness is, to a great extent, still with me, even as I spend the afternoon by myself, my mother off having lunch with friends and our cats and dog enjoying a post-lunch nap. And this seems like the perfect time to reflect on the year that was 2025. I don’t know if this serves any purpose, but it feels like such a natural need: to look back at the year you survived as you step into another.

I wanted to see what I wrote in the past few years but I seem to have skipped a recap post in 2024 and 2023. I don’t know why, but it could be because most of both years were spent being careful. They didn’t feel like real years, much like those covid years didn’t feel real. It felt unfair to count them because we didn’t do much living during them.

So here we are, at the end of what feels like the first real full year I’ve lived in a while. So I’ve poured myself a drink and I’m ready to remember what a year it’s been.

A friend joked yesterday that the universe must be filling its annual shittiness quota in these final few days. I said the universe filled that quota during the first half of the year, and it’s true. I was sick for most of it. Nothing serious, but wave after wave of the flu hit me and it felt like I was so rarely without a sore throat or a runny nose.

I don’t know if masking up in public places helped or if the flu gods took mercy on me, but the second half the year was relatively okay. And I hope nothing changes now. But I remember feeling so frustrated because whenever I let myself go out and have fun, I’d spend a good week or two sick.

Even if it isn’t any kind of serious illness that requires medicine or tests or needles, it’s incredibly frustrating to be sick. So those first few months felt very I can’t do this anymore-ish.

This year also reminded me about the importance of being there for your friends. Someone who existed in my life in a strange way (in that they were a friend but not one I met often but was still someone I interacted with online almost daily) passed away. I haven’t really lost a lot of friends so it was quite a shock.

But taking a train to her funeral made me – made us – really think about what it means to be friends. How it’s not just about making time for someone while they are next to you, but how it’s also about reaching out and making time and not letting things like distance or work stop you from offering support or just your presence.

It was strange. She wouldn’t even know who came to her funeral. No one gets points for this. No one is a better friend for this. But in the end, if we can’t even show up for a friend’s funeral, then what’s the point?

We need to stop giving friendship a value. Looking at it as a transaction. I’m not here for you because you were there for me. I’m not paying for food this time because you owe me from last time. I’m showing up because I care. Because I love you. And because, for selfish reasons, you fill my life with joy and love and kindness.

We need to keep this in mind. We need to tell our friends we love them. We need to make them feel less alone in this world. We need to make time for them. Because if we fail at such a simple thing as friendship, then what? What’s the point really of our sad little lives?

On a more positive note, the year wasn’t all bad. I spent Christmas and my birthday overseas and came home to meet the kitten who had walked into our verandah while I was away. Amma had been convinced about adopting the little fella and it was nice having a kitten run around and get up to all sorts of mischief.

“No more pets,” my mother said, and I agreed. We already had a cat and a dog who were so stubborn and set in their ways. The kitten added to the pet-related work we, well, Amma does in a day.

But this changed in October, when another kitten decided to find his way into our lives. And now we live in a house of utter chaos with five pets, all demanding love and attention and plenty of snacks.

This year, I finally made a decision to leave a job I loved in theory and a field I have loved since I happened to find a job in it many years ago. Print media has been a field of passion and joy and comfort and safety to me but I no longer wanted to check my account balance five times a day close to pay day or cancel plans because I couldn’t afford to go out.

I was tired of that struggle, tired of having to consider freelance gigs because journalism doesn’t pay well. Not that it was always about money. This year alone, I got to watch Gehenu Lamai after writing so much about it. I got to write stories I loved, meet people I admire. But that’s not enough, is it? I had stopped learning. I was fucking up more because I had to do other people’s work and couldn’t focus on my own responsibilities. I was stressed and tired and just needed a break.

And so, I left. And I’m glad I did, because the universe pushed me into a field I had vowed against but one that is challenging me and forcing me to think differently and do different things.

I am incredibly grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given, especially to look at stories from a different angle. I sometimes can’t believe the kind of work I’m doing now and how I’m still able to do things I love (like this!).

And of course, this year is when we published our first book about Ollie. I got the opportunity to work with a fantastic illustrator who didn’t look at this as just another job or project, but went that extra mile by loving these characters just as much as I love them. Being able to hold a book launch, hearing people talk about the book – I never thought these things possible.

On the list of good things but not particularly joyful is this: I think I’m finally able to hold other people accountable or at least understand that not everything is my fault. I tend to take the blame for a lot of things, I feel guilty even when it wasn’t my decision or fault or whatever. This makes me feel shitty, yes, but it also lets other people off the hook.

I think I’m finally starting to not burden myself and to understand that I’m not responsible for how other people act or react. I can’t blame myself for the decisions they make or the shit they fuck up. It’s on them. It’s not on me.

And this understanding has allowed me to move on from certain things that hurt me, whether it’s a distancing from friends, people treating me badly, not understanding why certain relatives have been awful to me. It’s not that these don’t matter anymore, but that I don’t want to waste time figuring out what I did to cause any of this. Because sometimes, you don’t do shit. And you don’t need to blame yourself.

And I think I’m also quite happy about the way I’ve not given into the easy way of doing things. I still do my own writing, I take down notes on actual paper with an actual pen. I use my brain when it comes to anything creative. I haven’t got lost in the quiet chaos of AI. I feel like I’ve been able to hold on to things that still bring me joy and give my life purpose.

And I’ve been taking the train to work, which has filled my life with these little moments of such joy and laughter and observation. I mainly took cabs these past few years and that isolation really distances you from the real world. Being able to eavesdrop on conversations and make room for others and share a look of exasperation with a stranger – these are such small things but they sure make you feel alive.

What else? Well, this might be it. My 2025 recap. Meow Meow, the kitten we swore we would find a home for, is fast asleep next to his (empty) bowl. Ash Pumpkin, Amma’s girl, is asleep on her bed. Gingie, my darling baby, is asleep at my feet. Ollie, so full of love, breaks the silence with her sleepy groans.

The mug I poured a drink into is almost empty and I’m happy. I’m happy to be leaving 2025 behind. I’m excited to turn 32. I hope to exercise regularly, travel a lot, and learn a new skill next year. I want to read more and learn more and meet new people. I want to discover new things about myself.

I’m hoping it’s a good year, not just for me, but for everyone. And I hope that years from now, I will return to this post and see that despite everything going on in my life and in this world, I was happy and I was loved and I had people I loved with all my heart.