My very own version of (There she goes)
If someone asked me how 2025 has been for me, I’d simply say: it’s been a roller coaster. This year has taken me to incredible highs, threw me into devastating lows, and somehow, I’m still here grateful, stronger, and still standing.
When the year began, I had so many dreams and expectations. I thought 2025 would be my year. I wanted to serve, to shine, to love, and to finally reach those personal milestones I had quietly prayed for. But as months passed, it seemed life had other plans. Not all of them were pleasant. In fact, some were downright painful.
One of the first heartbreaks I experienced this year was losing the election for SSLG President. I had campaigned with my whole heart, presented my vision with passion, and believed I could bring change. I wanted to be a voice for students, someone who could represent and serve with purpose. But when the results came out, and I wasn’t the chosen one, it felt like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t just the loss that hurt it was the feeling of not being enough despite giving it my all. I questioned myself, my capabilities, and for a while, I let the disappointment dim the fire I once had.
And just as I was trying to heal from that, another storm came this time in the form of losing two of my beloved pets. They were more than animals to me. They were part of my safe space, my comfort, my silent companions during lonely nights and overwhelming days. Their presence brought me peace, and losing them broke something in me. It felt like I lost pieces of my heart with them. No one tells you how painful it is to grieve animals who once waited for you at the door, or laid by your side when the world was too loud.
Then came the heartbreak I didn’t see coming. I had trusted someone, opened up, and gave a piece of myself to a boy I thought could be different. But just like so many stories I’ve heard, ours ended in pain. It was a failed relationship, one that left more questions than closure. I lost not just the boy, but the version of myself I was when I was with him happy, hopeful, and innocent. Heartbreak changes you. It makes you colder, a little more careful, and a little less quick to believe in promises.
As if those weren’t enough, I also witnessed someone I admire someone who truly had a heart for our municipality and its people lose in the local elections. I knew how sincere their intentions were. I saw how hard they worked and how pure their desire was to make lives better. Seeing them lose was not only painful but also disheartening. It made me question whether goodness and honesty still have a place in a world often swayed by popularity and power.
To add to it all, I experienced so many moments that triggered trauma old wounds reopened, new ones formed. There were days I didn’t want to get up from bed. Nights when my thoughts were louder than my prayers. Times when I doubted if I was still the same girl who once believed she could handle anything. Trauma has a way of stealing your voice, your light, and your will. But somehow, even through the darkest days, I found small sparks to hold on to.
Yet despite all these heartaches, I won’t let this year be defined by my losses alone.
Because somewhere in between the pain, I found people. Real people. Those who didn’t leave when things got messy. Those who stayed even when I had nothing to offer but silence and tears. I met souls who reminded me that kindness still exists, that loyalty still matters, and that being “real” is not as rare as I thought. These people didn’t just walk into my life they walked with me, through the highs and the lowest of lows.
They were there when I needed to cry without explaining why. They listened without judgment. They made me laugh when I forgot how to smile. And slowly, they helped me rebuild. Not in big, dramatic ways but in the quiet, consistent ways that matter the most. They reminded me that I don’t have to be strong all the time. That it's okay to break. That healing is not linear, and that being human means falling apart sometimes.
2025 may have been painful, but it was also a year of clarity. It showed me who truly matters. It stripped away the fake friendships, exposed the intentions of some people, and brought to light those who genuinely cared. It reminded me that not every closed door is a failure sometimes it’s protection. And not every heartbreak is a tragedy sometimes it’s a redirection.
I’ve learned that growth isn’t always beautiful. It’s often uncomfortable, messy, and full of tears. But it’s worth it. Because with every challenge I faced, I discovered something new about myself. I learned that I’m resilient. That I can start again, even when everything falls apart. That I can lose and still find reasons to be thankful.
I won’t lie and say I have it all figured out now. I still carry the weight of this year in my heart. But I also carry wisdom, strength, and a deeper understanding of who I am.
To anyone who feels like life is a series of losses, please know: you are not alone. The road may be rocky, the ride may be wild, but it doesn’t end here. Keep going. Cry if you must, pause if you need, but don’t quit. Because beyond the pain is purpose. And beyond the heartbreak is healing.
It’s still May, and this year is far from over. I know more storms may come, but I also know I’ve survived enough to believe in brighter days. I’m hoping the rest of my 2025 journey will be filled with more peace, more healing, and more moments that make my heart genuinely smile. I’m not giving up on this year not yet. There’s still time for beauty to rise from the ashes.
May the rest of my 2025 be gentler, kinder, and maybe, just maybe, a little magical too.