2025 out.

2025 : A Year I Didn’t Plan - But Lived Anyway

Some years arrive with a neat little narrative. A lesson. A before-and-after. A tidy bow you can tie at the end and say ah yes, that’s what that was about.

2025 wasn’t that.

It didn’t come with a glow‑up, a rock‑bottom, or a dramatic reinvention montage. It was quieter and messier than that. A year of staying. Staying in my body, in my life, in the things I care about - even when it would’ve been much easier to tap out, numb off, or fuck it all off entirely.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sum it up neatly. But I lived it. And that feels like something.

It was the year I said goodbye to Pegs

And I’m still not over that. I don’t know if I ever will be.

Her absence has been loud in a quiet way — woven into routines, pauses, the bits of the day where she should still be there. Life carries on, of course. I still get plenty of love from her brother, Toby Cat (we both miss her terribly), and the wolf visits often enough to keep me on my toes. But the world is permanently altered now. There’s no catching her drinking from the loo, no feeling her curl up beside me while I drink my morning brew. Some losses don’t shrink — you just learn how to carry them.

workin’ it out

It was also the year I bit the bullet and joined a new local gym.

Which sounds small, but really wasn’t.

I kept showing up - sometimes motivated, sometimes resentful, sometimes negotiating aggressively with my own brain (and sports bra). I didn’t always want to be there, but I always loved it when I won the internal argument and went anyway.

I did Hyrox. Twice. With nowhere near enough training and a frankly offensive amount of hope. It wasn’t graceful. But it was brave. I raised a brilliant chunk of money for Macmillan Cancer, and I’m choosing to be proud of that - even if my body had several loud opinions at the time.

Move bitch

There was movement in other ways too.

I passed my motorbike theory and CBT and then… did nothing with it. But soon precious, soon. The motorbike dreams are still there though, quietly revving away in the background. Waiting.

I travelled - a lot. Three very different trips abroad: Spain, Greece and Indonesia. Each one special in its own way. Each one reminding me that I’m still allowed to look forward to things. That wanderlust hasn’t gone anywhere. It was just having a nap.

hello sunshine?

Creatively and professionally, I stayed when it would’ve been very tempting to quit.

I painted portraits at beautiful weddings and events - quick, joyful little pockets of connection that reminded me why I love what I do. I didn’t rage‑quit Hello Sunshine, despite many moments where self‑employment felt terrifying, exhausting, and deeply unfair.

Small business life is hard. Lonely hard. Quiet hard. Brain‑being‑a‑prick hard.

But I stayed.

Christmas markets and online sales reminded me that people genuinely enjoy what I make - and want to share it, gift it, and spread that love further. That’s easy to forget when you work alone day in, day out, with only your mean‑spirited inner monologue for company when sales go quiet.

I’m incredibly proud I’m still going - just. In every sense.

on paper

This was also the year I got divorced. A sentence that still feels far too blunt for the size of it.

Saying goodbye to a life I wasn’t ready to let go of came with grief, disorientation, and the unsettling feeling of the ground shifting underneath me. Alongside that, I started therapy - and later came off antidepressants. Which sounds neat and decisive, but absolutely wasn’t.

Turns out feelings are… a lot.

Sitting with them - without immediately trying to fix, numb or package them into something productive - has been uncomfortable, eye‑opening, and necessary. It’s very much a work in progress. A big, ongoing, sometimes wobbly one.

I drank less this year.

Still probably too much - but with far more awareness.

Sober‑ish self‑reflection is wild. And awkward. But it’s helped me notice patterns I’d spent years avoiding. I spent a lot of time with myself in general this year too. Learning things that were good, bad, and fairly ugly. Not all of it flattering. All of it useful.

Bali brought a lot of this into sharp focus - and out onto the page - in several very raw blog posts that I’m still quietly proud of.

happiness is connection

I realise all of this might sound a bit blunt. Maybe even melancholy. But there was joy too.

So much of it.

Threaded through absolutely everything.

Buddy sleepovers. Festivals. Portraits at weddings abroad. Motorbike adventures. Laughing until my face hurt. Dropping barbells on my face and making new friends in gym classes I was terrified to attend. Home‑cooked meals and cosy nights in talking about big feelings. Sign‑writing in Somerset and accidentally making like‑minded mates while painting my cunt. So many doorstep stomps, coffee chats, and wolf walks in the sunshine.

Proof - if any was needed - that connection shows up in the most unexpected places, especially when you nudge yourself outside your comfort zone.

here’s Jonny

And through all of it, there’s been Jonny.

A weirdo I met at uni in 2003. Friend‑zoned for years. Offered me a room when I really needed one. And now… well. Now he can’t get rid of me.

We’ve rollercoastered through the last couple of years together - giggles, snacks, emotional whiplash and all.

Sorry, Jonny.

(I hope it’s been worth it.)

So no - 2025 wasn’t tidy.

It wasn’t linear. It didn’t hand me easy answers or a shiny new version of myself — no matter how many times I threw my all‑or‑nothing bullshit at it.

But I stayed curious. I stayed soft.

I didn’t harden, numb out, or give up on myself completely - even when I really wanted to.

I kept making things. I kept moving my body. I learned (and am still learning) how to feel things without immediately trying to make them palatable, productive, or even Instagram‑friendly.

If this was a rebuilding year, it was the kind where you’re still standing in the rubble, holding a cup of tea, squinting at what might go where next.

And that’s OK.

If you’re reading this and your year felt wobbly, unfinished, or emotionally loud - you’re not alone, behind or broken. You’re just in it.

I’m proud of myself for getting through this year. Even - and maybe especially - on the days I absolutely wasn’t.

And you should be proud too!

💛