This is the 6th post I’ve made this year, but for some reason this is the first one that has posted, so my whole ‘I’m gonna post everyday in 2026’ promise looks like I’ve already failed, but I haven’t.

I’m stepping into 2026 differently than I stepped into 2025.

Last year was heavy. It stretched me, humbled me, and exposed parts of me I had been avoiding for a long time. 2025 wasn’t just hard because of what happened around me—it was hard because of what was happening inside me. I tried to carry too much on my own. I made choices I’m not proud of. I held onto guilt, resentment, and fear longer than I should have.

But the truth is: 2025 didn’t break me. It woke me up.

As this new year begins, I’m choosing sobriety—not just as a decision, but as a commitment to clarity, honesty, and self-respect. Sobriety means facing life as it is, without numbing, escaping, or pretending I’m fine when I’m not. It means choosing presence over avoidance, healing over hiding. It hasn’t been easy, and it won’t always be comfortable—but it’s already been worth it.

I’m also learning to trust God again, and in a deeper way than before.

Not the kind of trust that says, “Everything will go how I want,” but the kind that says, “Even if it doesn’t, I’m not alone.” 2025 tested my faith. There were moments I questioned why things were happening the way they were, and moments when God felt quiet. Looking back now, I can see that silence wasn’t absence—it was an invitation to grow. To surrender control. To stop trying to be my own savior.

Trusting God in 2026 means releasing the pressure to have it all figured out. It means praying even when I don’t have the right words. It means believing that grace still covers me, even after my mistakes.

One of the hardest lessons I’m carrying into this year is forgiveness—especially forgiving myself.

I’ve spent so much time replaying past choices, wondering how things might have turned out if I had done better, known more, been stronger. But shame has never healed me. Beating myself up has never moved me forward. Forgiveness doesn’t erase accountability, but it does make room for growth. I can acknowledge where I fell short without staying stuck there.

Forgiving others has been just as challenging.

Some wounds didn’t come with apologies. Some relationships ended without closure. Holding onto anger felt justified for a long time—but it also kept me tied to pain I no longer want to carry. Forgiveness, for me, isn’t saying what happened was okay. It’s saying I refuse to let it define my future. I’m choosing peace over bitterness, freedom over resentment.

2026 isn’t about becoming a perfect version of myself.

It’s about becoming an honest one.

It’s about waking up each day and choosing healing, even when it’s slow. Choosing faith, even when it’s tested. Choosing sobriety, even when life feels overwhelming. Choosing grace—over and over again.

I’m grateful for the lessons 2025 gave me, even the painful ones. They led me here: clearer, humbler, and more hopeful than I’ve been in a long time.

This year, I’m starting fresh—not because the past didn’t matter, but because it taught me how to move forward.

Here’s to 2026.
One day at a time.
With faith, forgiveness, and a whole lot of grace.