Closing 2025 with Trust and Quiet Courage

I hesitated before writing another end-of-year post. The familiar self-judgement kicked in - who cares, everyone is doing them - but then, in true coaching fashion, I gave myself a gentle (but firm) kick up the bum. It’s the end of the year. I’m a coach and honest, sometimes uncomfortable reflection is what we do! So here goes.

What a year 2025 has been.

I know I won’t be alone in saying this, but there’s a collective exhaustion in the air. A lot of people, myself included, are probably feeling like 2025 can politely (or not so politely) do one. It’s been heavy and relentless at times, the kind of year that doesn’t ask for permission before throwing curveballs.

And yet strangely, alongside all of that, I’ve felt something else. An undercurrent. A sense that I’ve reached a sort of emotional crescendo. That moment where the noise is deafening, the pressure feels unbearable and then something shifts. Almost like I’ve hit peak chaos, and now things are finally preparing to turn toward something better.

A few years ago, during another difficult season, I came across this poem that brought me unexpected comfort;

Someday everything will make perfect sense. So for now, 

laugh at the confusion, smile 

through the tears, and keep 

reminding yourself that 

everything happens for a reason. 

Today will never come again. 

Be a friend. Encourage 

someone. Take time to care. 

Let your words heal and not wound. Love, love, love. 

Because love conquers all!

-Author Unknown

People don’t always like to hear that everything happens for a reason, and honestly, I get it. When you’re in the trenches of trauma, grief, or loss, it can feel like a bitter, almost insulting pill to swallow. I don’t believe hardship is handed out to teach us lessons in some neat, transactional way. But I do believe that something good can come out of every situation, no matter how dire it looks at the time.

For me, that belief is rooted in gratitude and optimism not the glossy, toxic kind, but the quieter, harder kind that chooses to look for light even when things feel dark. It’s my way of trusting in God’s ability to bring calm to chaos, and meaning to mess.

So, as I close off 2025, I’m intentionally not setting New Year’s resolutions for 2026. Instead, I’m choosing trust. Trust that the seeds I have carefully and deliberately planted will sprout when the time is right and trust that the sweat, tears, and sheer persistence poured into them hasn’t been wasted and, that it will act as fertiliser for real, lasting growth.

This year, I’ve also leaned heavily on ancestral wisdom. The kind that doesn’t shout, but hums quietly beneath your life if you listen closely.

So what have I learnt;

• We don’t have to be defined by bad habits. I’ve been doing the work of recognising what I’ve inherited, what no longer serves me, and what ends with me, the process has highlighted to me where I have been living in a straightjacket, and i’m  learning to release myself from this to use my voice in a fuller, more powerful way. So I offer you an invitation, reclaim your voice. Get honest about what’s really holding you back and then get intentional about how you will break free from it.

• Be unpalatable. You can’t please everyone and trying will only dilute you. But the people you do resonate with, the ones who get you, challenge you, cheer you on, they’re the ones that matter. Focus on them. Let the rest fall away.

• Community counts both personal and professional. This year has shown me just how vital, and complicated community can be. Not everyone can be trusted, and that’s not cynicism, it’s discernment. Surrounding yourself with the right people isn’t just about connections or opportunities. It’s about having people who are straight with you, who want good things for you, not from you.

• Accountability matters both self-accountability and inviting others into that process. There is something incredibly powerful about speaking goals and intentions out loud. Once they’re in the open, they ask something of you. Whether or not you label it accountability, having someone who gently holds you to your word can be the difference between dreaming and doing.

• Everything really is possible. Truly. I started this year with the idea that I wanted to write a book. It felt like a pipe dream, something I almost whispered apologetically. And yet, here I am at the end of the year, with it written, pending, and ready to be unleashed and I cannot wait!

So for 2026, I look forward — not with rigid plans, but with open hands, ready for what grows next.

What about you?