I’m Not Who I Was in 2025 and I Am Good With That.

It’s A New Season.

I turned 65 knowing something had shifted in me—and not in a way that needed fixing.

2025 was hard.

Not the kind of hard you power through with grit and caffeine, but the kind that rearranges your insides. The kind that forces you to stop pretending you’re unaffected. I walked through confusion, disbelief, and the quiet sting of realizing how easily systems can misunderstand you—how quickly truth can get tangled when the wrong voice is believed. I learned, painfully, what it means to be seen not just as experienced, but as physically disabled. That alone will humble you.

I am not the same person I was walking into that year.

Somewhere along the way, my spirit softened. Not weakened—softened. I stopped fighting my pain and started listening to it. I learned how to work with my body instead of demanding it keep up with a version of me that no longer exists. Working from home when I need to. Resting without guilt. Handling my personal life with more intention and less urgency.

I also learned a lot about the world some younger people are navigating today. Their pressures are different. Their fears are different. And honestly—I feel for them. It’s not better or worse, just different. Recognizing that helped me release the expectation that they should understand me the way I once hoped they would. That release brought peace.

What surprised me most is this:

I really like myself.

I respect how my mind works. I trust my instincts. I am truly unapologetically me—not out of defiance, but out of knowing I’ve earned the right to stop editing myself to fit cookie-cutter expectations. I can’t do the copy-and-paste version of belonging, and I don’t want to anymore. I accept being the outsider among non-seasoned workers at my job. I know my lane. I do my job well. And this year, I’m choosing to stay there with calm confidence instead of quiet resentment.

Home has become sacred.

My tower is my refuge. Up here, I rest. I write. I think. I breathe. I appreciate who I am and how I now handle my life. I’m still a work in progress—but I’m finally moving in a direction that makes sense for me. A direction that opens doors instead of draining me. A direction that allows grace.

My focus has shifted.

I’m thinking about retirement—not as an ending, but as a return. A return to doing life on my terms. I’m preparing to step away from the workforce and exploring ways to build a home-base business that can supplement my income and support the life I want sooner than I once planned. That’s not fear talking. That’s clarity.

2025 forced me to ask a lot of questions.

Some of them out loud. Some of them quietly, late at night, coffee nearby, rain tapping the window. Those questions helped me understand what was happening around me—and more importantly, what was happening within me—so I could walk into 2026 with a completely different game plan.

I read and listen to philosophers often, because wisdom doesn’t expire with time. Lately, it’s been Carl Jung, who spoke of life after 60 as the “afternoon of life”—a turning inward, a letting go of external approval, a season of integration instead of achievement. That resonates deeply. This isn’t decline. This is wholeness.

I’m not chasing.

I’m not proving.

I’m becoming.

So let’s sit and have a virtual cup of coffee together for a moment. No rush. No pressure. Just space to breathe. Let’s explore what this next chapter looks like—not as a checklist, not as a grand announcement, but as a quiet unfolding.

This season feels slower and steadier. It looks like choosing sustainability over exhaustion.

Like work that fits my body and my spirit, not the other way around.

Like saying no without guilt and yes with intention.

It’s creation without urgency, wisdom without carrying everyone else’s weight.

This chapter lives in mornings in my tower with coffee and rain tapping the window. It’s trusting that I don’t have to explain myself anymore. It’s observing without absorbing, mentoring without carrying, and allowing life to meet me where I am.

No big reveal today.

Just awareness.

Just honesty.

I’m not who I was in 2025—and I am good with that, how about you?

It’s a new season.

And I’m ready to sip it slowly. ☕️🌻