Life on Hold, But Not Alone…The Ducks Can Vouch for Me!

2025—
What a year.

Not the “highlight reel” kind.
More like the long pause, deep breath, stare-at-the-ceiling kind.

It began with change.
Then no job.
Then—because timing has a sense of humor—
two days later a call from the landlord: We’re selling the house.
Do you want to buy it?

A great question.
A terrible moment.

No job.
Big decisions.
A future that suddenly felt like a blank page…
written in pencil…
during an earthquake.

What followed was a masterclass in uncertainty.
Navigating systems.
Learning patience the hard way.
Experiencing frustration, confusion, anger, and every emotion that comes free with long hold times and unfamiliar forms.

And then came the part I didn’t plan for:
asking for help.
Relying on others.
Letting go of the wheel—
which turns out is harder than holding on too tightly.

It was scary.
It was a roller coaster.
But somewhere in the middle of the ride, something unexpected happened.

I stopped.

I caught my breath.

I began to find health again—
mental, emotional, physical.
I noticed how much of my life had slowly become
stress-filled, performance-driven, people-pleasing…
and how quietly exhausting that had been.

So I listened.
To the world.
To my thoughts.
To my soul.
To the rhythm of daily life.

And yes—
to that steady, gentle voice that never rushed me, only asked:

Be still.
Trust.
Do you actually believe what you say you believe?

Because now the words had legs.
And faith had traction.

Many days were spent walking the Waller Park duck pond—
sharing my frustrations, hopes, fears, and dreams
with ducks who never once interrupted,
never offered unsolicited advice,
and never tried to fix me.

They just quacked.
Honestly?
They were perfect.

There were wins.
There were losses.
There were moments when quitting felt tempting—
simpler, even.

But there was never a moment of giving up.

And through it all, one question kept surfacing:
Will you follow… even when it’s hard?

So what did 2025 teach me?

That I am more than enough.
That it’s okay to cry, question, and feel deeply.
That hope is not weakness—it’s fuel.
That the loudest critics often live inside my own head.
That feelings are meant to be felt—but not handed the keys.
That perfection isn’t the goal.
Presence is.

And that being me—
fully, honestly, imperfectly—
is exactly what I’m meant to offer.

Most of all, it reminded me of this:

As long as tomorrow comes,
there is one more day,
one more moment,
one more chance
to be a little truer, a little braver, a little kinder.

That’s what the world needs.

So yes—
I’m thankful for 2025
and everything it taught me.

And I’m also thankful…
that it’s over.

Here’s to 2026.
I’m listening.