 Saying Goodbye to 2025I ran into trouble as I was doing a letting go ritual for 2025. In the middle of it, I realized that though I was looking forward to 2026, I was not fully ready to walk away from this year. I needed to honor and celebrate first. You mattered. You shaped me. You are not being erased. And this goodbye will never be about forgetting, but instead is being made possible by witnessing and remembering you. I think, ultimately, that that's my final message as a witness to this year, and I want to name some of the experiences that I'll be leaving behind. (1) Worst Memory - this is the year I lost my best friend, to cancer, in May. She and I were originally part of a found family of five. We called ourselves The Golden Girls. Just a year before, our number had dropped to four when my friend Dina passed away. And then we were three, when just a few months after her cancer was discovered, my best friend Kathy died. Walking away from her in that hospital, not long after she'd passed away, was the hardest moment of this past year, especially because in that moment, I still felt her presence with us in that room. (2) Highest Self - this was also the year Kathy became the best version of herself that I'd ever known. In the months before she passed away, she was happier than I'd seen her in a long time, kinder and more loving to me than I'd ever experienced, and her energy had softened and gentled. I watched people fall in love with her during her cancer journey, and after a few weeks in a rehab facility, they all told her they didn't want her to leave. We all became so close, during those months after her diagnosis. We went from doing so occasionally, to saying I love you every day. At the beginning of the year, when she was in the hospital, I sat with her and my other friend, Peggy, for hours at a time, talking, hanging out, being in each other's presence. You could call that visiting, but it felt so sacred, and precious, that that word seems way too small. During my end-of-the-year ritual, I kept thinking of those months when she was still alive, and realized I'd have to leave them behind, in order to move into 2026. It felt like leaving her behind, all over again. But sitting here today, as I write this, looking at the candle I lit to celebrate her and that time together, I know that the truth is that I'm taking her and those moments with me. And while the loss is still breaking my heart, reliving those memories fills it. (3) Coming Home - 2025 was the year I left what sometimes felt like a dungeon (that apartment had its own personality), and came home to a place that felt like a fresh, new start. First year of the rest of my life. We left the dungeon as one unit, one family, and moved into our new apartments, two by two, all of us feeling that energy of out with the old, in with the new. And that moment is part of the reason I didn't want to leave 2025 behind, because this was the year of what we thought would be the beginning of our Camelot. We had imagined our golden years, growing old together, drinking tea on each other's porches. And this move felt like that. So the shift to 2026 feels a little like leaving that moment of innocence behind forever. Sigh. But once again, now that I'm hugging it close, I know it's in my heart, which means it will come with me, a vision slightly tarnished by reality, but living forever in nostalgia.  (4) The Famine that Became a Feast - when I first found out I wouldn't be receiving the monthly food stamps we get in November, I panicked! And then I found out that the small town I'd moved to nonetheless had lots of help available for those who needed it. It felt like being saved from a famine. And the three of us (golden girls) made a new friend we now cherish. In fact, she surprised us on Christmas day with a feast she'd prepared herself and she brought gifts for each of us! A situation that had scared the you-know-what out of me became a blessing I couldn't possibly have imagined. We have, of course, officially made her a 4th golden girl. (5) Family Freedom - this was the year I finally began to see my relationship with my son clearly, and because of that, I was able to let go of a lot of the expectations, and obligations, I'd been holding over his head. We were close when he was growing up, and I expected that to continue forever. I wouldn't have said it that way, if you asked me, but you'd likely hear me complain that he never writes, he never calls. And he heard me complain about it, too. I'd thought we would talk on the phone a lot, even if it was just to check on each other. And one of the things I'd treasured so much about our time together was how we'd make each other laugh and talk over life and world events - not just processing them alone, but talking about them together. And then suddenly, we didn't live together anymore, my son's life became more and more crowded, and those moments stopped happening. Or became few and far between. And I really felt hard done by. This wasn't how it was supposed to be when your kids grow up! I'd seen lots of examples that were more like I'd hope I would be. And I spent years grieving that loss (to anyone who would listen). But this year, I let those expectations go. And as soon as I was willing to envision a life where he was free to live the way he wanted, even if that meant there wasn't as much time for me as I might want, I began to feel so much more peace! And it freed me to love him and our relationship as it actually is, without demanding that it become what I wanted. And then the moments when we were able to connect felt so much better. It feels like the energy between us is much cleaner. And I'm really grateful for that. I wouldn't want this year to go by without taking a moment to honor who I was and who I've become as our relationship changed for the better. Life is not obligated to accede to your demands. That realization comes to me every year. But each year is so much more than that. And depending on the balance of good vs. evil (in my year), I sometimes lose sight of the abundance of blessings life brings even in the hard moments. And in retrospect, I think that before fully letting this year go, I needed to take a moment to be thankful for those blessings that this year has brought me, but also have a final walk-through for the moments that broke my heart. Having given myself this time, I feel so much more peace about saying goodbye. Here I am, 2026! May you shape me in ways I won't want to leave a year from now.
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I woke up the other day feeling like December just… happened to me. Have you ever felt that way? Like you blink and suddenly your holiday spirit seems to have deserted you? Well, that was me. I was tired, overstimulated, a little sad, a little cranky. I felt like the day was getting away from me almost as soon as I got out of bed. Christmas felt like too much, which is when you know something's wrong. My mind instantly went into fixing mode... “Just push through it.” “Rise above it.” I tried to pull on my future self like she was a sweater I could magically slip into. (Spoiler: that didn’t work.) And then I remembered something that (thankfully) changed the whole tone of my morning.  Here's what happened that changed the way I felt that day... I realized that my “job” is not to transcend these moments. It's to be tender with myself while they’re happening. My first thought was - you mean transcending them is off the table? But then I began to get on board. :)  Holiday Self-Kindness & |
Hi, I'm JeanineAuthor, spiritual guide, lightworker identity coach and ritual designer. 
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