Another year has come to an end, and everywhere I look, people are sharing how incredible 2024 was for them. They’ve travelled to dreamy destinations, learned exciting new skills, devoured insane books, met fascinating people, made new friends, tied the knot, or even welcomed adorable little humans into the world. And honestly, I’m genuinely happy for them. Achieving even a little is worth celebrating.
But here I am, sitting in a cosy café with my favourite mocha choco chip frappe (almond milk, of course, thanks to my lactose intolerance), writing this piece. Why? Because I spent the last day of this year crying my eyes out—hysterically, mind you. I’m talking about full-on lip-quivering, bloodshot eyes, nose-dripping kind of crying. That kind where your inner voice sneers, “You deserve this. You’re good for nothing.”
Yes, that happened. Especially when someone stomped on my already shattered heart. Is it their fault or mine? That question spins around endlessly, and my body recognizes this familiar ache—like meeting an old, unwelcome acquaintance.
But here’s the thing: even though I wanted to give up, I didn’t. I took a step out of the house and came to this café, my sanctuary of sorts. And that single step stopped me from doing something irreversible—literally and figuratively. So, cheers to that step, no matter how small it might seem.
I’ve never been the kind of person with a crowd of people to share my feelings with. Life’s twists and turns have drained any desire to burden others with my troubles, so I bottle it all up. Classic Aquarius, right? Until I can’t anymore.
Sorry if I’m rambling. This is the best glimpse I can offer into my chaotic mind, hoping it might remind you that you’re not alone. If you don’t have flashy accomplishments or picture-perfect moments to share as the year ends, that’s okay.
Sometimes, just surviving is worth celebrating.
Don’t get me wrong; my life isn’t just a bed of thorns. It’s more like a bed of roses—beautiful, fragrant, but occasionally painful. Some petals have been soft and kind, while others came with sharp thorns. Whether those thorns were planted by me or others is a discussion for another time.
This year was bittersweet. I learned a lot—not the kind of “new skills” everyone flaunts online, but lessons about myself and the people around me. And I’ve realized that the learning won’t stop until my last breath.
I’ve struggled mentally, physically, emotionally, and financially. (Raise your hand if you’re buddies with the last one. Yeah, me too.) But here I am—alive. And isn’t that worth celebrating?
For 2025, I’m letting go. No plans. No Goodreads reading goals. No big resolutions. I’m surrendering to the Universe, to God, to a higher power. I’m trusting the process and believing that everything will be okay. With my personality, this is borderline impossible, but it’s the one thing I’m committed to doing.
I’m not here to list my failures or achievements or dwell on the happy or sad moments of 2024. None of that really matters. What matters is connecting with you, and letting you know you’re not alone. Trust me, I’ve lived through trauma, heartbreak, and depression. And if you’re in that space, hear me out: you’re not alone. We’re not alone.
So, if you’re reading this, give yourself a pat on the back. Clap for yourself. Look in the mirror and smile. Tell yourself, “I did my best this year.” And thank you for not giving up, for chasing that glimmer of light at the end of the dark tunnel. Maybe 2025 will be the year we step into that light and embrace it fully.
Adios, 2024. Welcome, 2025.
Written by Aakanksha Jain
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