2025

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1...

“Happy New Year!” I raise my glass along with everyone else on the dance floor. The room is covered in glitter and champagne. My satin dress and fur coat glow under the disco ball, along with all the other gorgeous women dressed to the nines. For a split moment, time really does slow down with the start of a new year. A blur of smiles, alcohol spilling onto the floor, people kissing.

Aw… people kissing. I want that.

I want that every year, don’t I?

At least I didn’t fall for the whole “eat grapes under the table” thing this year. Maybe I should have.

The truth is… I didn’t have a lot of expectations for 2025. Usually I do. Usually, I go into New Year’s Eve with a whole plan for what the year ahead will bring.

“This will be my year!”

Dumbass.

If the last few years taught me anything, if divorce taught me anything, it’s this:

This will not be your year. It’s not going to be your year for a long, long time.

But I will play the part. I will make the excited Instagram post. I will put on the heels. I will plaster a smile on my face and spin on the dance floor along with the rest of the fools who believe ten seconds can actually make a difference at all.

2024

What do you want me to say?

It was a blur of manic highs and lows. It holds some of my favorite memories. It also holds the stories I don’t share. The ones that are too painful to relive. The ones that still make my stomach sink and my heart crack. The ones that scar and do not heal with the passing of time. Maybe someday.

So forgive me for feeling jaded before the ball drops. Forgive me for walking around with a heart that doesn’t feel like it can beat anymore.

I mean… I did make a vision board, though. I know, it’s silly. But here’s hoping that maybe it’s more effective than grapes eaten on a dirty floor.

I get home late from the NYE party and slide into my sheets. Before I turn the light off, I glance at the vision board.

Hmm…

2025 Vision Board

Fitness

Okay, we kind of have this locked down now. The reminder doesn’t hurt, though.

Learn Piano

This one’s new, but it could be fun.

True Love

Ugh.

Financial Freedom

Girl, be so for real. lol

Friendships

We can do this one, I think.

What 2025 really looked like

Fitness

Could it be better? Yes. I will continue this one into 2026 for sure.

Piano

I ordered one in early February, along with an instructional book. I was right, it is fun.

True Love

This one is still a work in progress. I suppose it depends on your definition of true love. Does it have to be a romantic partner?

I believe my relationship with my son looks like true love. I believe my relationship with myself is starting to look like that as well.

I also think I’ve experienced true love in a romantic sense. I’m actually lucky, I’ve experienced true love twice. My favorite love story is my own. Even the ones that didn’t end in forever were real, and I am grateful for that.

However… did I find my person? A life partner? A teammate?

No. Not yet.

Financial Freedom

No. lol

Friendships

Now this one makes me smile. I’ve rekindled some older friendships this year. I’ve also invested more time into women instead of men (no offense, men.) These friendships have been life-giving and refreshing.

I’ve formed a small circle of other single moms. I’ve spent time with my married friends and their children. Oh yeah… I’ve made some online friends too.

New Dreams

I’m really bad at math, parallel parking, and grammar. For that last reason alone, I could never be a writer.

Except… I actually love creative writing. I always have. Even when I was a little girl, I spent my free time creating screenplays or working on the latest issue of a magazine I made up: Turboteen.

As I got older, I realized my favorite homework assignments were essays. During COVID, I spent much of my free time attempting to write short stories. At my current job, I’m often praised for my creativity and curriculum writing.

Interesting, isn’t it? That I never considered writing one of my passions until 2025? It was staring me in the face my entire life, hidden in the pages of silly fake gossip columns and a fantasy book I started in middle school about a magical land made of fairies and queens.

Still, I always made my husband edit my grammar in college and grad school. I mean… could I actually be a writer without his help?

Could I actually be anything without him?

I guess I could just do what I’ve always done. Write for myself. Write my story and see how it comes out in ink and paper...or, in this case, a computer screen and a keyboard.

After all, I am curious. If I open these scars, what words will I find hidden in the blood spilling out onto the page?

So I write in secret, as I always have. I write about love. I write about pain. I write about beginnings. I write about endings.

Surprisingly, it’s not hard at all. It comes out easily. Tenderly. I read what I’ve created, and I feel good. I feel lighter.

I never share my written work… but this time, I want to.

Separation Story Time

“Dammit! Divorce Diaries is already a thing!” I exclaim on the phone with my sister.

“It’s fine. We’ve got this. Loveless Letters? Uncoupling Chronicles? Breakup Book?”

Hmm… maybe.

We go back and forth for hours until we finally land on the title: Separation Story Time.

“Yeah… that’s kind of fun. I like that,” I say.

I’ve told my sister about the blog, but I haven’t even let her read it yet—which is strange, because I tell her literally everything.

I suppose I just wanted her to see it with the rest of the world.

I learn. 

I learn how to check my grammar (with a lot of help from AI.)

I learn how to design a website.

I learn how to create a public Instagram account.

I learn how to use Canva.

I learn how to create Instagram Reels.

I learn how to post.

I learn how to wait.

Creating this blog and this space is by far one of my favorite things about 2025. I’ve created a space where I feel seen, but more importantly, where others feel seen.

Whether they’re laughing alongside me in my dating misadventures, struggling with their own heartbreak, or reaching out to say, “Girl, I would have fallen for Book Boyfriend too,” I love this small community. And I can’t wait to continue watching it grow.

2026

So no, I won’t raise a glass on NYE and proclaim that 2026 is going to be my year. I won’t be sitting under the table eating fruit. I’m not even sure I’ll update my vision board.

But I will acknowledge the gifts 2025 gave me. I will feel humbled and grateful. I will remember my favorite moments and put to rest my least favorite ones.

And for the first time in years, I will set silent goals that have nothing to do with finding love in a romantic partner, but instead, finding love within myself.

Of course… with that secret hope that true love will find me in 2026 anyway.

Happy New Year.