This Year

This year, I will stand as I am—

unmasked, unwavering, wholly true.

Each step rooted in purpose,

each word a mirror of my heart.

With kindness as my compass

and love as my guide,

I will give freely, live fully,

and honor the beauty of being real.

This Year

This year, I will stand as I am—

unmasked, unwavering, wholly true.

Each step rooted in purpose,

each word a mirror of my heart.

With kindness as my compass

and love as my guide,

I will give freely, live fully,

and honor the beauty of being real.

I hesitated before sharing this image—a frozen moment that feels more raw than real. My face, smeared with the remnants of yesterday’s mascara, lashes clumped like brittle branches in winter. My hair, staticky and defeated, pulled back into something too tight, too bare. The mirror offers no mercy, and yet, I promised myself this year would be about shedding: the masks, the layers, the comforts of concealment.

This is the beginning of an excavation, the deliberate unearthing of my own history. These years have been carved by struggle, discord rippling through me like a storm. And yet, amid the wreckage, something improbable has flourished. Parts of me—parts of my life—have quietly thrived, even as others broke apart.

For once, I am learning to be kind to the woman in the mirror. Not indulgent, but honest. I will give her credit where it’s due—for surviving the chaos, for enduring the sharp edges of illness, and for fortifying the fragile bonds between herself and those she holds most dear.