This year has changed me.

My parents divorced. Even as an adult, that shakes something deep inside you. You don’t expect to feel it the way you do — but you do.

My father moved to another country. The relationship shifted. And in many ways, it feels like a loss. There’s grief there. Complicated grief. The kind that doesn’t come with a clear ending.

At the same time, I’ve been watching my son’s slow physical decline from Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. DMD doesn’t rush. It progresses quietly. Gradually. And yet every small change feels loud.

There’s a particular weight that comes with loving someone you can’t protect from a diagnosis.

This year also marked the beginning of my own mental health journey. I started counselling. For a long time, I thought I just needed to “handle it.” Be strong. Keep going. But strength sometimes looks like asking for help.

And in the middle of all of this, there has been light.

My children continue to amaze me. Their resilience. Their humour. Their ability to find joy in small things. They ground me.

And my mom moved in with us. She has been a steady, quiet rock in a season that could have easily pulled me under. Her presence has reminded me what support really looks like.

2025 has been a year of grief and growth living side by side.

I am learning that both can exist together.

I am learning that I can feel heartbroken and hopeful at the same time.

And maybe that is what this season is about — not pretending everything is fine, but choosing to keep showing up anyway.

One day at a time.