Sparks in the Dark: Choosing Intention After a Year That Had Teeth
Poetic & Reflective
- A journey through grief, grit, grace, and the quiet hope that survived the hardest seasons.
- Finding light, faith, and myself in the cracks left behind by a difficult year.
- Where loss shaped me, hope rebuilt me, and intention became my way forward.
The end of 2024 set the emotional temperature for the early months of 2025, and that temperature felt like numbness. Not sadness, not anger—just a hollow quiet that settled into my bones. We lost my mother‑in‑law on December 30th, 2024, and in the way life sometimes cruelly clusters tragedy, one of her sisters passed away only a few hours before. It felt surreal, like grief was coming at us in stereo and we didn’t have the capacity to absorb even one channel of it.
Because my bereavement policy doesn’t cover in‑laws, I spent the following week working while Damian and his family tried to piece together what needed to happen next. There’s something almost merciful about the early storm of logistics—the calls, the decisions, the “who is doing what” of it all. You stay so busy you don’t have time to fully feel the loss. But that only lasts until the world stills again.
After the memorials fade, after the celebration of life is over, after everyone returns to their respective corners of the world, there is a silence that feels deafening. An echoing emptiness that makes you realize how permanent the absence really is.
We were out of money, out of time, and still had to get from South Carolina back to Florida with a busted radiator. Leaving South Carolina was brutally hard on Damian. Watching him navigate this past year—carrying grief on his back while still trying to function—has been its own kind of heartbreak. The first year after losing someone is made up of emotional landmines: birthdays, holidays, anniversaries… each one hitting like a punch straight to the chest.
Meanwhile, the world outside our front door felt heavy in its own ways. The national climate grew darker and more unsettling, the kind of atmosphere that makes you question where compassion has gone. Our debt was stacking itself around us like walls closing in, no matter how hard we pushed back.
Life didn’t slow down for any of it. I watched a friend endure the unimaginable—discovering her ex after an overdose, inside the home they once shared. I lost several friends from school this year, gone without warning or explanation. And while I know no one owes me answers, something about losing people in their forties feels jarring and disorienting. How do people our age just… not wake up?
My own body demanded attention too. Health issue after health issue rolled in like unwelcome visitors who didn’t know when to leave. My mom’s A‑FIB episode sent her to the hospital once. My dad’s atrial flutter sent him there more than once. It felt like every time I looked up, another piece of someone I loved was being held together in a hospital room.
Oh yes—2025 had teeth. It bit, hard.
But here’s the part I can’t ignore: Among the heaviness, I also saw hope. So much hope.
Faith‑centered
- Letting God soften the edges of a year that tried to break me.
- A testimony of survival, surrender, and choosing God’s light in the shadows.
- Walking into 2026 guided by faith, resilience, and the belief that I still matter.
I watched friends make bold moves - literally - packing up entire lives and moving across states, choosing bravery over comfort. I watched friends and acquaintances get married, starting new chapters full of promise. I saw babies born into families who had prayed for them for years.
Some friends put their heads down and pushed through school, graduating with Master’s degrees or earning high honors like the absolute warriors they are.
I watched people I love get sober. I watched others stay sober. My dad received his 40‑year sobriety coin—forty years of choosing life, choosing clarity, choosing the hard and beautiful road of recovery.
And in all of that, something inside me shifted.
Even in a year that broke us down in places, there were people around us building things. Building families. Building careers. Building resilience. Building themselves.
There was beauty in the cracks.
There were sparks in the dark.
There were reminders - quiet ones, loud ones, unexpected ones - that life refuses to be only one thing, even in hard seasons. It gives grief and joy. Loss and new beginnings. Fear and courage. Emptiness and rebirth.
So as 2026 opens its door, here’s what I’m holding onto: Not that the storms won’t come, not that the road will suddenly be smooth, not that life won’t throw another curveball when we least expect it...But that we are more capable, more resilient, and more prepared than we were a year ago.
This year, I’m not making resolutions. I’m setting intentions.
Hopeful & Grounded
- Holding onto the small joys, softened mornings, and the gentle healing ahead.
- A new year shaped not by resolutions, but by mindful living and honest healing.
- Where grief ends, intention begins, and hope finally has room to breathe.
Every New Year, people ask, “What’s your resolution?” But 2026 isn’t about resolutions at all—it’s about choosing you, embracing movement, honoring your energy, and living with intention.
Life isn’t about perfection or promises. It’s about celebrating every win, big or small, and letting go of the ghosts that linger from the past. It’s about handing some of the burden to God, trusting that He will quiet the noise, lift the weight, and clear the path for the blessings meant for you.
This year, I’m living one day at a time…just for today.
Just for today, I will live in the present—not
yesterday, not tomorrow.
Just for today, I will look for joy, even if it’s small, and not lose
myself in thoughts that no longer serve me.
Just for today, I will accept the things I cannot change and find the
courage to change the things I can.
Just for today, I will stop sabotaging my own happiness. I will
strengthen my mindset and continue to inspire myself, the same way I
pour into others.
Just for today, I will stay committed to my health and weight‑loss
journey by logging everything and holding myself accountable.
Just for today, I will stand firm in my beliefs, choose what is right,
and take responsibility for my actions.
Strong & Empowering
- Rising from the hardest year yet with purpose, clarity, and unshakable resilience.
- Rebuilding my life one intentional choice at a time.
- A declaration of strength, healing, and finally choosing to live fully.
At midnight I got my kiss, said my prayers, and fell asleep.
I want my days to move with calm intention, and for my heart to stop standing guard waiting for the next crack that this world tends to bring. I want to rise without the weight on my chest, and drift into sleep without rehearsing the ghosts of what I should have done differently.
I want the people with depth and kindness in their soul stay close to me tied with truths. You people feel like home to me and we are the ones that are going to change this world...one soul at a time.
And I hope the old memories: the sharp ones, the heavy ones- finally lose their bite.
Let them fade. Let them blur. Let them turn into lessons, not fresh wounds. I hope I release what hurts, not because it didn’t matter, but because I matter too. Because breathing shouldn’t feel like a chore.
This year, I'm done fighting life, done just surviving...it's time to live life FULLY, honestly, with grit and grace.
Today I woke up grateful with the love of my life next to me.
Today I got to see my parents and share a meal.
Today I prayed with my family for a kinder and more hopeful 2026 with a lot of fellowship, family time, food, fishing, and a sense of community. I thanked God for what I already have and thankful he loves me.
1995 taught me that some people don’t make it home.
2025 reminded me that all we truly have is today.
2026? I’m choosing to live - every single day - with intention.
You matter to me and I love you.
Happy New Year.
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