a year in review (kind of)

New year, new me?

Prompted by my Spotify Wrapped and with the end of the calendar year quickly approaching, I had the brilliant, totally unique, never-been-done-before idea to write an end of year reflection, as this year was filled with so much.

But when I sat down to write, it felt incredibly awkward and I found myself writing and re-writing the intro 5,000 times. “Why is this so hard??” I wondered.

And then I realized: trying to neatly pack everything that happened this trip around the sun in the confines of a calendar year box felt clunky. It didn’t fit. I couldn’t pack things neatly in socially constructed categories—new beginnings, growth, challenges, closure. As much as I wanted to deliver some insightful reflection tied up in a pretty bow, I couldn't.

Look, I’m not saying we should throw away our calendars and rebel against the concept of time entirely (although, let’s be real, that would be a vibe). All I’m saying is there is more than one way to measure something: meters, feet, kilogram, ampere, candela… you get it. Life, too can be measured in different ways.

For me, I am starting to see life as a landscape with seasons that don’t follow an exact timeline. Some of those seasons—emotional, spiritual, or physical—don’t end when the calendar flips.

In the past 365 days, I’ve moved through many seasons: a season of grief, navigating death and loss; a season of growth, in both subtle and dramatic ways; and a season of deep self-discovery. But as I sit here reflecting, I realize that I am currently living in a season that won’t end when the ball drops on New Year’s Eve.

This season is filled with learning what it truly means to live an authentic life, shedding labels and identities that no longer represent me, leaving behind old versions of myself, and claiming the life I want. It’s about discovering my truest, most authentic voice and living for myself rather than for others.

For anyone who has lived through this season, you know how incredibly challenging it can be.

There is a popular concept in behavioral psychology referred to as extinction burst that describes the sudden, intense surge of old behaviors before they finally fade away. When we try to change deep-seated habits and ways of being, our survival instincts kick in with this “burst” where we grasp for the familiar: what has allowed us to survive thus far. The old patterns are resisting their own extinction.

And during this phase, we often feel more stuck than ever, overwhelmed by urges to return to “safety” or revert to old coping mechanisms. It’s frustrating and confusing because you feel like you’re failing. But you’re not - it’s a natural part of the process, an uncomfortable albeit necessary push before something new takes root.

I’ve been feeling these bursts myself. There are days where it’s hard to look at myself in the mirror, the reflection so dissimilar to the person I want to become. I’m learning to meet these moments with love, and approach my own growth with compassion.

So, rather than framing this year in terms of completion or closure, I’m leaning into the idea that a year -maybe even life- can be a series of overlapping seasons, each one imperfect, unpredictable, and beautifully incomplete. And as I sit in the middle of this one, I realize it’s not about rushing to the end. It's about recognizing that I am in motion, evolving. I’m letting myself move through it at my own pace, getting crystal clear on the lessons it’s demanding of me.

It’s humbling, really, to realize that life’s evolution doesn’t adhere to a neat and tidy timeline. We’re all on different journeys and at different points along them, and where someone is in their growth doesn’t always reflect how many years they've walked this earth. It’s about the inner work, the lessons, and the seasons that shape us.

walk boldly,

Caroline