2025: The Year of...

I met a girl some years ago who told me she hated February. She thought it was a wasteful month—too few weekends, silly changes every four years, and the older you get, the more complex its grip seems to tighten. It’s the month of Aquarius moving into Pisces—water, water, drowning everything away. The month specifically allocated to romantic love—a ridiculous, cruel notion when relationships fail, people are desperate for love (or sex), and during a water month, most are going through a love drought.  Every February I think of this girl and agree with her sentiment.  February is a wasteful month. And yet, my first love, my firstborn, was born in February, so I am forced to recognize it. It's the month you need to start functioning again because the New Year hangover is over, and January's festive glow has worn off—reality sets in. And so has my need to blog.

2025 rolled in with all the grace of stepping into a giant pile of dog shit. Slippery, stinky, ugly—with the end result being disgust and tears.

New Year’s Eve was a delightful deflate that happened at 10 PM.  My plans combusted, resulting in a more significant spread of dog shit.

From a drama, stress, and general health standpoint, it still stinks, and it better not pick up speed - if it does, there will be severe damage ahead.

But, in my moments of exhaustion-induced clarity, I’ve noticed a few glimmers of hope.

I am officially stepping into my "balance era." Not the Pinterest-perfect, yoga-at-sunrise, self-care-in-a-candlelit-bathroom kind of balance, but the "I will no longer be a 24/7 human punching bag for tween and teen rage" kind.

I love my no-longer-ankle-biters— they are ginormous, taller than me, painful attitude breathers.  But it's clear for their own safety and my sanity, the daily chore of making breakfast needs to stop (says the woman whose father made her breakfast every day until she was 28, and yes, I loved it).

My point is that I’m feeling better about myself. My choices. My direction. My ability to say no without excessive apologizing. I’m grabbing the bull by the horns and doing things differently: talking more, reacting less, rejecting nonsense, setting boundaries, and—dare I say it—attracting instead of chasing.

I had a slight revelation: the girl who used to fake laugh her way through discomfort is fading. I am unraveling (in a good way) and discovering what makes me shine. And I like that.

So 2025 didn’t start with fireworks, a confetti cannon of joy, love, or big adventures, but you know what? That hopeful glow is still here. And for now, that’s enough.

Happy 2025 and Valentines Day.