Embracing the Liminal: A Reflection as We Step Into 2026
Dear 2026,
I gaze into my rearview mirror, its reflection cloudy with the remnants of 2025. The year looms large behind me, a bittersweet specter of joy and sorrow entwined, whispering secrets of loss and longing. This was the last year I had with my boy; the weight of that truth presses heavily upon my chest, urging me to cling to the fading memories of his little warm paws and the sweetest smile a dog could ever have. Yet, I mustn’t. The tether to time demands release.
2025, a year woven of sadness and startling excitement, has left my soul feeling both barren and ripe. I liken it to a field left fallow—purposefully plowed, its surface cracked and naked, demanding patience, resilience, and a thickened skin to weather the seasons ahead. In these moments of stillness, the lines between contentment and apathy blurred completely, and I didn’t even notice until it was too late. I took solace in the flimsy embrace of detachment, too frightened to admit how utterly defeated I felt. A quiet shame wrapped around me like barbed wire, reminding me of the bruising weight the world had pressed upon my shoulders. I caught myself pretending to be fine with not caring about things that once fired my soul; maybe I was just scared to admit how worn down I felt. It’s a tough pill to swallow, realizing how easily life can knock you down and remind you of your place.
I confess, I do not mourn this year, nor do I leap for joy in its absence. Instead, I find myself suspended in a dimly lit liminal space, where feelings come and go like the waves that lap against the shore—uninvited yet persistent, carrying with them the debris of yesterday’s worries. Yet, on the cusp of this new year, the unease of 2025 reveals itself as a necessary chrysalis. I needed to confront the jagged edges of my existence, to cultivate resilience where nothing once thrived. Just when I believed I had deciphered the cryptic messages of my life, the universe playfully unravels yet another complex riddle, demonstrating that with every revelation comes a new layer of confusion.
In the face of it all, I find solace in the mantra of existence: still, life goes on. At times, this relentless pulse of momentum breeds anger within me; it feels so unforgiving, so swift while I stand paralyzed, unable to digest the tides of change. Sometimes that’s infuriating, especially when it feels like the world is racing by and leaving me in the dust, struggling to process everything. But upon reflection, I recognize this movement as a disguised blessing—a prompt to breathe and begin anew. This year has unearthed treasures I had long overlooked: pearls of knowledge, the sacred threads of connection that stitch my heart back together, and an ember of hope that flickers brightly in the shadows of uncertainty. Despite the struggles I’ve faced, it’s this very hope that asserts 2025 as a pivotal year for me. It whispers of possibilities yet unseen, stretching beyond the narrow confines of fear. Because of that, I know for sure that 2025 will always hold a special place in my story.
As I embrace the chorus of 2026, I am haunted by echoes of old trepidations while grappling with new ones. It’s a mix of fresh fears and old worries creeping back in. Yet, I remind myself—every step taken beyond the precipice of fear has birthed growth. So here I stand, on the threshold of this unwritten chapter, demanding that the apathy of last year transforms into awe.
Oh 2026, I wish for magic. Let the rekindled warmth within my heart radiate boundless energy, transforming fears into stepping stones. Let this year be one of awakening and creation, where the essence of life shines through cracks once filled with doubt.
2026—a canvas blank and inviting, ripe for the strokes of the brave.
