Softening After a Year That Asked Too Much

A note from someone still figuring it out.

Hello, friend.

I’m glad you showed up today.

Maybe you’re entering this year hesitant to have hope. Maybe 2025 was a difficult one, or maybe it’s been more than just a single hard year. I’m sure you’re wondering when the hardship is going to end. When was the last time you smiled, felt lighter, or didn’t feel this crushing weight of life?

I hear you.

 I feel you.

 And I want you to know you’re not alone.

As I look back at my 2025, I feel a bittersweetness toward it. So much happened – I moved four times, had three jobs, and felt absolutely no stability at all, both in housing and within myself. When it all came to a stop due to external circumstances, I remember thinking, This year is breaking me. I felt broken, and I felt grief- grief over my life not looking the way I thought it would by now. This was not the dream I imagined I’d be living.

Visiting my Inner Child

2025 asked a lot of me. It stretched me, softened me, and showed me where I’d been holding my breath. It was painful and tender. I faced loneliness, homesickness, and the feeling of being a minority yet again. You wouldn’t know this from the sunset photos I consistently posted. It’s funny how what we see on social media isn’t really a representation of our actual lives.

Even though life felt hard, I still didn’t want to give up on the experience I came here for. I thought of my 10-year-old self often– the girl who felt pulled toward the West Coast before she ever saw it. It was because of her that I kept going. I didn’t want to give up on her. She reminded me that life is bigger than the ache of one chapter and of the importance of being honest with myself. I began facing parts of me I used to run from - my patterns, my fears, questions about faith, my upbringing, and the ache of growing pains I didn’t want to admit were there. My younger self kept nudging me to keep going and to not close my heart just yet.

Through many solo adventures, I learned that it was time to challenge beliefs that had kept me small, to heal attachment wounds, and to tend to my younger self - promising her I would never dismiss her again.

Moving with Softness

And now, as I enter this new year, I’m learning to move differently– with softness and gentleness. With a trust in myself that feels foreign, yet also like the missing piece. I’m embracing my sensitivity and leaning inward towards little Anissa, who never gave up on me.

I’m not sure where you’re at as you read this, but I hope you give yourself space to move gently, to notice what’s tender, and to trust, even if just a little, that alignment and joy will find you again. And I hope you remember your inner child is still there, quietly waiting for your care, just as I am still learning to care for mine.

With love,

Anissa

Here are some questions for reflection and action steps you can take. A reminder that these do not take the place of therapy.

If you or someone you know is struggling, I highly recommend seeking a therapist who can offer personalized tools and strategies. Check out this link on how to find a mental health professional.

Questions for Reflection

• What part of me has been asking for attention this past year?

• In what ways have I been surviving instead of allowing myself to feel? What am I scared to feel?

• What beliefs have I been holding onto that no longer feel true or kind to me?
  

Inner Child Reflection

• If my younger self were sitting across from me right now, what would they want me to hear?

• What brought me joy before I learned to be afraid, practical, or small?

Maybe healing doesn’t require having all the answers - only the willingness to listen.

Action Steps:

• Write a letter to your younger self. Let it be honest and imperfect. Tell them what you see now, what you’re proud of, and what you’re learning to give them.
  

• Create one small moment of safety each day. This could be lighting a candle, going for a slow walk, putting your phone down, or wrapping yourself in a blanket - something that signals you are safe here.
  

• Notice where you rush - and pause there. When you feel pressure to push through, including pushing through your emotions,  ask yourself: What would gentleness look like instead?
  

• Revisit something that once brought you joy. Drawing, listening to a favorite song, being near water, watching the sunset - not to be productive, but to remember yourself.
  

• Make one promise to yourself you intend to keep. Keep it small and realistic - something that builds trust rather than pressure. Here are some examples:

  • I promise to listen to myself before I silence my needs.

  • I promise to show up for my inner child when they need comfort, not criticism.

  • I promise to give myself permission to rest, even when nothing is “finished.”

  • I promise to meet myself with gentleness, even when I don’t have all the answers.

Let your promise be small enough to keep, and kind enough to mean something.