Lessons of 2025

Some lessons arrive softly.

Others leave marks before they leave wisdom.

I’ve learned that superficial bruises fade. Skin heals. Bone mends.

But the cost of self-betrayal lingers far longer than any visible wound.

I will not be a slave to anyone.

Money is a tool never a justification for injury, disrespect, or abuse.

No job, no role, no promise of security is worth the quiet erosion of one’s self.

One of the most important lessons I’ve learned is this:

loyalty must begin with me.

Only when I am loyal to myself can I expect honesty, care, and reciprocity from others.

And if those things are not met, it is not my responsibility to endure it is my responsibility to listen.

I’ve learned that I am beautiful, kind, loving, authentic, and resilient.

Not because someone else affirmed it 

but because I learned to see it, protect it, and stand with it.

I deserve to be met.

Not managed.

Not minimized.

Not dismissed.

I’ve seen firsthand how love, care, and attention can shift the worldview of others.

I’ve also learned that my presence carries power 

and that power must be offered freely, never extracted at my expense.

There’s a simple, almost silly story that stays with me.

A man goes to the doctor and says,

“Hey doc, it hurts when I do this.”

The doctor replies,

“Then don’t do that.”

We laugh at the simplicity of it.

And yet, how often do we ignore this wisdom in our own lives?

If it hurts when people scream at you,

leave the situation where screaming is normalized.

If it hurts when you bend yourself to fit expectations that aren’t aligned with who you are,

stop bending.

If it hurts when others tell you your beliefs are wrong 

but those beliefs feel steady, grounded, and true within you 

step away and follow your truth.

Pain is not always something to push through.

Sometimes it is information.

An invitation to choose differently.

I’ve learned that a job or a career can help build a sustainable future 

but not at the cost of one’s self.

Gratitude has become my cornerstone as I take each step forward.

Not gratitude that silences discernment,

but gratitude that anchors me as I move toward what feels honest and aligned.

My dreams have changed shape over time.

To write.

To serve.

To become a nurse.

Perhaps one day to inspire others toward a more authentic form of caring 

for humanity, and for themselves.

Because true caring does not demand sacrifice of the soul.

It asks for presence.

It asks for truth.

It asks for alignment.

And alignment, once chosen, has a quiet way of restoring peace.