A Year of Shedding. A Year of Becoming.

There are years that pass quietly in the background, and then there are years that change the shape of your life. Years that take more than they give. Years that make you feel as if you are being stripped down to the base layer of who you are so that something new can eventually be built. For me, and for many people I have spoken to, this has been one of those years.

It has been a year of endings. A year of shedding. A year of being pushed to let go of things we would have held onto forever if life had not stepped in and insisted we move on. It has been one of the hardest years I can remember. Nearly losing my dad at the start of the year. Watching my mum face the worst health challenges she has ever experienced. The financial pressure of moving house. The emotional weight of moving my business out of a venue that had been home for ten years. Being stretched financially, mentally and physically. Even my car was written off for good measure. It felt endless at times. Relentless.

But somewhere inside the chaos was a pattern. A theme. A strange kind of symmetry that only made sense when I took a step back and looked at the wider picture.

I came across something that stopped me in my tracks. In numerology, 2025 is considered a nine year. A year of completion. A year where we are pushed to release the chapters that no longer serve us. A year that clears space whether we like it or not. And next year, 2026, is a one year. A beginning year. A chance to start again with new energy, new direction and new momentum. It is also the year of the Horse in the Chinese zodiac which is known for movement and forward motion.

I do not rely on numerology or astrology to guide my life, but sometimes symbolism mirrors our reality so closely that you cannot ignore it. A year dedicated to shedding followed by a year dedicated to rebuilding. That alone felt poetic. When I looked at everything I had experienced this year it felt even more fitting.

There is a strange comfort in recognising that endings are not punishments. They are transitions. They feel heavy because they carry weight. They feel painful because they take pieces of who we used to be. They feel chaotic because they force us to face things we have avoided. But they also create space. Space to breathe, space to choose, space to build, space to step into the next chapter without dragging the old one behind us.

This year taught me that life is made of opposites. Light and dark. Peace and chaos. Loss and renewal. We like to imagine that the goal is to live with only the positive side of the spectrum but that is not how meaning works. You cannot understand joy unless you have known sadness. You cannot appreciate stability unless you have lost it at some point. You cannot feel grounded unless you have also felt lost. Every experience gains its depth from the contrast that came before it.

This is why the hardest parts of this year did not break me. They shaped me. They taught me patience in moments where I wanted answers instantly. They taught me courage in moments where decisions scared me. They taught me humility in moments where I felt out of my depth. They taught me resilience in moments where everything felt as if it was falling apart. They were uncomfortable lessons but they were essential ones.

Most importantly, this year taught me that the goal is not to remove the dark. The goal is to learn how to stand between the light and the shadow without letting either define you completely. Life is not about escaping the contrast. It is about understanding it. Accepting it. Moving with it instead of fighting it.

So if this year has felt heavy for you too, I hope this brings you some perspective. Maybe nothing is going wrong. Maybe you are simply in the part of the story where everything is being stripped back so the next chapter can be lived with more clarity and less weight. Maybe this year had to fall apart so next year can come together.

If this year broke you in any way, it might only be because next year is preparing to rebuild you. And the version of you that rises after a year like this will not be the same person who walked into it. They will be stronger. Clearer. More grounded. And more ready for whatever comes next.

The new year will not fix everything overnight. But it will give you a starting point. A clean page. A chance to move forward without the heaviness that has travelled with you this year. And maybe that is exactly what you need.

Endings and beginnings. Light and dark. They are not enemies. They are partners. They give each other meaning. And you are meant to grow in the space between them.