What the Hell Happened This Year? Are You OK?

I don’t know many people who are coming out of this year feeling untouched.

Even the ones who look “fine.”

Even the ones who kept going.

Even the ones who did all the right things.

This year asked a lot. Way more than most of us expected. And for many, it quietly dismantled things we thought were solid.

Our energy.

Our certainty.

Our capacity.

Our sense of who we are and how we move through the world.

So before anything else, I want to ask the question we don’t ask often enough:

Are you actually OK?

Not the polite answer.

Not the “I’m managing.”

Not the “others have it worse” answer.

The real one.

This Year Was all about Letting Go (Whether You Chose It or Not)

For many of us, this year was less about building and more about shedding.

Letting go of identities that no longer fit.

Letting go of coping strategies that used to work but now feel exhausting.

Letting go of relationships, roles, beliefs, or timelines we were clinging to because they once kept us safe.

And here’s the hard truth: letting go rarely feels clean or graceful.

It often looks like confusion.

Like grief without a clear object.

Like being more tired than makes sense.

Like questioning yourself in ways you haven’t before.

If you’ve felt disoriented, unmotivated, or strangely tender, that doesn’t mean you failed the year.

It might mean you listened.

Asking for Help Is Not a Personal Defect

One of the quiet lies many of us carry is this idea that we should be able to handle things on our own by now.

That if we were more healed, more evolved, more disciplined, we wouldn’t need support.

That asking for help somehow means we regressed.

But this year exposed something important: humans are not meant to do life alone, especially during seasons of transition.

Asking for help is not a sign that something is wrong with you. It’s a sign that something honest is happening.

Support doesn’t mean weakness.

It means regulation.

It means co-creation.

It means allowing yourself to be met instead of muscling your way through.

And for many of us, learning how to receive help has been just as important as learning how to ask for it.

Accountability Without Shame Changes Everything

There’s another layer to this year that matters just as much.

Taking responsibility.

Not in a harsh, self-punishing way.

Not in a “what’s wrong with me” way.

But in a grounded, compassionate way that says:

“This is my life.

These are my patterns.

And I get to choose how I relate to them.”

Accountability without shame is one of the most mature forms of self-love I know.

It allows us to say:

Yes, I played a role here.

Yes, I avoided some things.

Yes, I stayed too long or didn’t speak soon enough.

And also:

I was doing the best I could with what I knew at the time.

I don’t need to attack myself to grow.

I can learn without abandoning myself.

This year asked many of us to grow up internally while staying soft.

To tell the truth without cruelty.

To repair without self-erasure.

That is not easy work.

If You Feel Changed, You’re Not Broken

If you feel different than you did a year ago, that doesn’t mean you lost yourself.

You may have outgrown something.

You may have metabolized grief.

You may have finally stopped performing versions of yourself that kept you disconnected.

Sometimes growth doesn’t feel expansive.

Sometimes it feels quiet.

Sometimes it feels like standing in the fog, trusting that your feet still know how to walk.

If this year humbled you, slowed you down, or cracked you open, you’re not alone.

And you don’t need to rush to make meaning of it yet.

A Gentle Closing Thought

You don’t have to wrap this year up with a bow.

You don’t have to declare it “worth it.”

You don’t have to be grateful for the pain in order to honor your resilience.

It’s enough to acknowledge:

This was hard.

I showed up imperfectly.

I’m still here.

And if you’re finding yourself in a season where you need support, reflection, or a safe place to land, that’s not a failure of independence.

It’s a return to being human.

So again, softly this time:

Are you OK?

If not, you don’t have to pretend you are.

I’m here as a resource to hold space for you.  Plant medicine and other psychedelics can assist with difficult times too. Reach out if you’d like someone to walk alongside you during this tough time. You'll be met right where you are. You won't have to "push through". We move at YOUR pace.