I’m currently writing this draft, hoping I’ll find the time to finish it, but as they say, once you write the first line, everything else begins to fall into place. There’s a lot of lifestyle admin I need to take care of before the year ends. At the same time, there’s so much travel that still hasn’t made it onto the blog, stories I’m hoping to write during the holidays.
Both gratefully and unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll have much downtime this holiday season. I’ve overcommitted myself, and that’s something I’m slowly coming to terms with. But anyway, enough of that.
Right now, I’m in Riyadh, intentionally embracing a slower pace that allows me to focus deeply on my new venture, away from the constant rush of city life. The timezone here works perfectly too, it’s behind North America, which gives me more productive hours in the day.
When I planned this stay, I imagined squeezing in a few tours here and there. Reality, however, had other plans. My body has been asking quite loudly for rest and care. I’ve essentially been on tour since October: from a host-from-hell Airbnb experience in Los Angeles, to a planned trip that turned into an impromptu 28-hour journey to Australia, followed by time along the Turkish Riviera.
While I truly enjoyed and made the most of every destination, my body eventually demanded a reset. So, I took a week off to rest, working quietly, intentionally, and without pressure. Things feel more aligned now, and I’m hopeful I’ll still manage to sneak in a couple of tours before heading home.
So far, Riyadh has been incredibly kind to me. One small thing that has unexpectedly stayed with me is the Arabic translation of As-salāmu ʿalaykum. Of course, I’ve always known what it means, but seeing it written, especially in emails or notifications titled “Peace and blessings be upon you” holds a different kind of weight. Halfway through the final stretch of the year, I realize I needed that reminder more than I knew. It feels like a quiet affirmation and I can honestly say, in this moment, that I am at peace. Alihamdulilai!
2025 feels like a roller coaster and I say that intentionally. I recently revisited the goals I set for myself, and to my surprise, I’ve done far better than I ever envisioned. There were moments mid-year when certain events could have easily derailed me if I had allowed them to. Instead, I pushed through.
People often compliment me on my strength, but I don’t think I truly understood what that meant until this year. When you’ve lived in survival mode for a long time, resilience stops feeling exceptional, it becomes your baseline. You assume everyone is operating the same way.
Earlier this year, life gave me a pause, a breather. I was forced to confront something that, years ago, was designed to break me but never fully landed because I was too busy surviving to feel it. This time, life was gentler. I was finally in a place where I could feel.
I reconnected with someone from my past and experienced them again, this time as a friend. They opened up to me about what they were going through, and in doing so, unlocked memories I hadn’t fully processed. I was flooded with flashbacks from when we were involved, and for the first time, I truly felt the weight of how poorly I had been treated. It was devastating, but also clarifying.
That moment reshaped my understanding of what it means to actually forgive yourself. I used to think that phrase sounded simple, almost dismissive. It isn’t. I couldn’t do it right away. I sat with guilt, questioning how I had allowed another human being to be so careless with me, how I had neglected myself so deeply and normalized it. It took months of honest reflection and emotional processing before I could reach a place where I could genuinely say, I forgive myself.
What’s strange is that even in the thick of it, I still found myself looking out for them, once again abandoning myself in the process. This time, though, I noticed it. I intervened. I chose differently.
One thing became abundantly clear to me: karma is real, the universe is fair, and God is just. I felt compelled to intercede on their behalf, to make a plea, not out of weakness, but out of release. And eventually, after months of navigating the dark, I found the light at the end of the tunnel.
Just as I was beginning to recover, another wave hit, this time in the form of betrayal. Not one, but a series of betrayals, from people I genuinely cared about. I won’t go into the details, but the feeling was unmistakable: it was as if my head were submerged underwater, and I was struggling to breathe the entire time.
The healed version of me moves slowly (not backwards). She is intentional, careful, and deeply committed to doing things the right way. There were moments when I wanted to react to become the version of myself that responds sharply and without restraint but each time, I paused. Looking back now, I’m incredibly proud of myself for that restraint.
In the middle of that turmoil, my language partner from France called during one of our usual weekly check-ins. As we chatted, she corrected my sentences the way she always does, gently and patiently. At some point, I switched to English and then I broke down in tears. I was sitting in a lab at the time, waiting to get my blood drawn after a recent checkup. My doctor had told me I was low on iron. Of course I was!
What struck me most in that moment was that Elsa, her English isn’t perfect just as my French isn’t but somehow, she understood me completely. She found the right words to comfort me, words I didn’t even know she had the vocabulary for. I never imagined that someone I had never met in person could hold space for me the way she did, and I remain deeply grateful for her kindness.
Slowly, I began to feel better. I did the emotional housekeeping I had been avoiding. I cleaned up. I let go.
I also learned how to use the block button properly. Up until then, I had only reserved it for spam and minor nuisances, never for people I once cared about. I had no idea how freeing it could be. I’ve always loved from a place of abundance. That’s why, for so long, I believed I would always be there for people, no matter what. That belief has changed. I’ve learned something equally important: Wisdom and Discernment. I’ve finally found them.
I’m not God. And if it is His will for certain people to sit with the consequences of their choices, then so be it. Who am I to interfere with the work of God?
Anyway, come October, the light finally shone on me. Something unexpected happened, my friends showed up in ways I didn’t anticipate. What’s interesting is that none of them knew what I was going through. Adulting is hard enough as it is, and I’ve never been one to bring heavy conversations to the table. Even my trusted friends were dealing with their own challenges at the time, and I don’t think they had the capacity to hold space for anyone else.
I remember planning a date with one of them, hoping I’d finally talk about what I was carrying. I wasn’t quick enough. She laid everything she was going through on the table, and by the time she was done, my own struggles felt so insignificant. So I did what came naturally, I held her hand and walked her through her storm instead.
There’s only one friend with whom we truly unload on each other without filters, but we were both busy. By the time we finally spoke toward the end of October, the storm had already passed, and we talked about it from a healed place.
Despite everything I’ve mentioned, I let everyone go with love. No drama, just love. That alone made me realize how much wiser and more grounded I’ve become over the years. Even I’m surprised by this level of maturity. The unhinged version of me has finally found supervision.
Thank God for light. And now, let’s talk about the good stuff, because come on, it wasn’t all dark and moody. What was meant to break me didn’t.
When we started the year, actually, on December 31, 2024, I went out and bought large cardboard sheets to write and speak my goals into existence. I was intentional in a way I hadn’t been in previous years, and I knew it was time to put my big-girl pants on. This year was no joke.
I had three boards, each clearly titled: Career & Work, Personal & Wellbeing, and Investment & Money. I stuck them on the walls of my room like wall art, in bright, impossible-to-ignore colors. There was no “I didn’t see it” or “I forgot.”They were giant on purpose not just to remind me, but to serve as working documents. Every time I crossed something off, I felt a deep sense of accomplishment and I’d often book a vacation to celebrate myself. In fact, every trip I took this year was tied to a goal.
In hindsight, I’m grateful I set it up that way. On the days I wanted nothing more than to crawl under my bed and disappear, those boards were what kept me going.
Career & Work
At the beginning of the year, I said I wanted more autonomy in my life. I wanted to do meaningful work and be genuinely happy while doing it.
In March, I nearly packed everything up. I called the movers, arranged for my belongings to be put into storage, and was fully prepared to leave for Japan. Just as I was about to make the move, someone intervened. The reasoning made sense. Looking back, I truly believe God had tried many ways to stop me, and I simply wasn’t listening. This time, the message came through someone I never expected to take advice from and that’s what made it land. Of course, it came with consequences, but it was the only route that worked.
In the end, I let go of the idea and chose a compromise: extended travel instead. That decision turned out to be more expensive, but also more humane. At some point, I was exhausted, and I needed my own bed, something I wouldn’t have had if my life was in storage and everything I owned had been sold.
I’ve always joked that entrepreneurs are my favorite kind of people. I deeply respect those who commit fully to one thing and build their lives around it. This year, I finally dipped my toes into that world. I’ve always been an entrepreneur at heart, but in the past, I quit before things really took off. This time was different. This was a pilot with no exit plan. I went all in, gambled everything I had, and told myself it had to work.
Along the way, I learned more than I ever expected. My time-management skills are on steroids. I became more physically active, more grounded, and more self-aware. On difficult days, when podcasts failed me, I turned to spirituality: the Quran, the Bible, affirmations, manifestation… whatever anchored me. It was challenging, but the results made it worth it. I discovered strengths I didn’t even know I possessed. In hindsight, I’m amazed I still managed to hold space for others during that time. Next year, that time will be redirected toward skincare routines and quiet tea moments, because growth also comes with discernment.
Beyond the bigger picture, I learned how to time-box my tasks. I created a daily checklist I review before signing off:
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Did I take care of my mental hygiene?
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My physical health?
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My financial responsibilities?
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My emotional wellbeing?
If the answer was no in any area, I made it a point to do better the next day, even if that meant doubling the effort. Slipping up wasn’t an option.
One unexpected highlight was an ex-boss reaching out to ask for my help delivering a key project. I met her at a mid-level stage in my career, and she’s someone I deeply respect, someone I always thought had it all figured out. Having her lean on me felt like a full-circle moment. We delivered the project successfully, and her willingness to give me full credit was a level of humility I aspire to embody.
Overall, if I were to rate this category against my original goals, I’d give myself a 70% pass mark. The goals I didn’t reach will roll over into next year and I’m perfectly at peace with this.
Personal & Wellness
This year, I broke this category into three pillars: travel, wellness, and friendships. I was intentional about including friendships because that’s the area I tend to place on the back burner.
To address that, I chose two of my dearest friends, people I truly value and wrote down exactly how I intended to show up for those relationships. Thankfully, both of them love dinners, which made things easier. We created a simple rule: every time we met for dinner, we scheduled the next one on the spot. Each of us was allowed only one cancellation. I never cancel, so I knew I was safe there. I planned these dinners around my travel schedule, and surprisingly, it worked beautifully.
Historically, I’ve struggled to maintain friendships not because of a lack of care, but because I’m constantly moving. The life I’ve chosen has shifted so much that many friendships from my past no longer align, and that distance often goes both ways. It’s evolution, and I’ve learned to be at peace with that.
What I’ve noticed instead is that I now meet people I categorize as "acquaintances", people who meet me exactly where I am, often at a similar stage of life. Some of those acquaintances slowly evolve into something deeper. Recently, while in Los Angeles, I told Tash, whom I met on one of my trips that I’d be in town. She canceled all her weekend plans and showed me around the city. It was the first time in a long while that I allowed someone else to take the lead on my itinerary. That alone moved her up the friendship ladder. We got to know each other better and realized how aligned we are on so many things.
At the same time, I reconnected with another acquaintance. The last time we hung out, we managed to get banned from a place simply because we were having too much fun. This time, we opted for a non-alcoholic brunch, strictly because I needed my brain fully functional that evening. Growth, I’m learning, doesn’t just change your goals, it reshapes your relationships too.
When it came to travel, I approached the year with intention. I created a list of must-visit destinations and added a few optional ones alongside it. The goal was to avoid decision paralysis, mapping everything out helped me prioritize and commit.
Travel this year was also designed as a reward system. If I didn’t meet a specific goal, I simply wouldn’t go. It was my way of holding myself accountable and staying motivated.
I kicked things off with Iceland in February, trading in my usual annual ski break for something different. In May, I returned to South Africa, partly because it had been a while since my last safari. The third destination on my must-do list was Bora Bora. I was curious about what the marine life there would feel like. That didn’t happen, but I traded it for something equally meaningful: diving the Great Barrier Reef in Cairns, Australia. (That blog post is still pending.)
In between, there were several other trips Los Angeles, Chicago, Turkey, and frequent back-and-forths to Dubai. As I write this part of the blog, I’m currently in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, typing away from a hotel room.
This year also turned out to be the most I’ve ever dived. I found myself underwater across multiple regions the Mediterranean, the Aegean, the Indian Ocean, Southern waters, and the Pacific. Each dive was different, grounding in its own way, and collectively they became one of the most unexpected highlights of the year.
At the beginning of the year, I felt like my travel plans were firmly under control. Then October arrived, and suddenly I found myself living out of a suitcase. Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way, it’s a good problem to have. What does surprise me, though, is that I somehow didn’t make it to France this year.
Overall, travel-wise, I explored different continents, unfamiliar terrain, and gained experiences that stretched me in the best ways. Looking ahead, I want to be more intentional about including trips where I’m not a traveler, but a vacationer, the kind of break where I sit at a resort, lie on a sun lounger, eat well, drink freely, and dance without an itinerary.
When it comes to wellness, the first four months of the year were beautifully structured. I had a rhythm: Pilates, sauna sessions, reading, journaling, and the gym. It felt intentional and grounding. Then May arrived, and everything shifted. I went into full firefighting mode. As I mentioned earlier in the blog, the challenges I faced, many of which stemmed from extending grace where I perhaps shouldn’t have and that took a toll. I’m still learning how to forgive myself for that. For nearly five months, I was simply keeping my head above water.
Toward the end of October, something clicked. I finally felt my mind return to where it needed to be, and interestingly, the signal was small but telling, I started painting my nails red again. During the height of everything, I couldn’t stand the colour for reasons I couldn’t explain, even though red is almost the only shade I ever wear. My nail technician noticed immediately and asked if everything was okay. We have a good rapport, and I shared what I could. In that moment, I realized just how much I had been carrying.
By then, travel had picked up again, and work entered one of its busiest seasons. Wellness, in its traditional sense, became harder to maintain. The closest I came to it was eating clean, journaling (this very blog), being still, disconnecting from everything, and firmly reinstating my boundaries. It turns out that’s exactly what my body needed at this stage.
Looking ahead, I genuinely aspire to become one of those girlies, the ones with multiple skincare routines, regular Pilates, and massages booked in advance. I miss my vanity. I feel like I’ve been losing it, and I need that slightly delusional, self-adoring part of me to stay alive.
Traveling so much has also made me incredibly efficient, perhaps too efficient. I’ve been packing for practicality and versatility, barely tapping into my love for fashion. I do intend to return to being a fashion girlie, one who is fascinated by styling and self-expression. The downside, of course, is the cost. Over the years, I’ve become very particular about quality fabrics, linen, lyocell, Mongolian cashmere, silk, and the likes. I tend to prioritize fabric over design, and that preference doesn’t come cheap. But we’ll see how it goes.
One of the things that brought me the most joy this year was watching my friends and the girlies around me win. Within my close circle alone, one friend moved into her own apartment, another is living out her professional dream, one beat cancer, and another welcomed a baby. These were deeply personal milestones they had been hoping and praying for, and seeing them come to life made me genuinely happy. I count their wins as my wins too.
Investment
I had a goal set around investing as well, and I kept it intentionally simple. Money making can be fast; investing, however, requires patience. I’ll leave it at that.
Overall, this has been a building year for me, one that came with immense wisdom, skill-building, and discernment. It demanded every ounce of strength I had, but I’m deeply grateful for the clarity that emerged on the other side.
One of the biggest lessons I learned is that not asking for help is a limiting mindset. How can you claim to live in abundance while convincing yourself that nothing is available to you? I’ve never been one to shy away from independence, but this year I asked for help emotionally and professionally, and what I discovered was humbling. The people around me already had what I needed; I simply had to ask. I didn’t realize how solid my support system was until I leaned into it, and for that, I’m truly thankful.
My relationship with God deepened as well. I learned to ask for big things. In my mind, it feels almost disrespectful to ask the Creator for smallness, how do you serve a limitless God and pray timid prayers? So I’ve learned to ask with more audacity and trust Him to meet me at that level. And honestly, I’ve always known Him to be a bit of a show-off anyway.
When I find myself unclear or uncertain about people or situations, I now choose to step back entirely. Everything that has stayed with me until this moment has brought clarity. Any trace of confusion, I’ve learned, was never of God to begin with. Our relationship grew stronger this year. I held up my end in faith, and He showed up in integrity.
My plan for the new year is simple: Stricter boundaries. Peace. Travel.
And remaining the kind of person who leaves people, processes, and places better than she found them.
I write these blogs primarily as a form of journaling, often hoping no one reads them at all. But whether you’re quietly lurking, intentionally searching for insight, or simply looking to feel less alone, I hope something here resonates. Thank you for stopping by.
Happy Holidays!
