2025: Year in Review

2025 wasn’t loud. It wasn’t flashy. It didn’t look like the years I used to document with nonstop trips and packed itineraries. Instead, it was quiet, heavy at times, and deeply grounding. A year that asked me to slow down, stay still, and sit with questions I didn’t have answers to yet.

I started this year feeling lost and burned out. Carrying things quietly, navigating life mostly on my own, and questioning my purpose more often than I’d like to admit. There were moments when explaining myself felt exhausting, so I chose silence instead. Walking away instead of confronting. Choosing peace over proving a point. It might look like weakness to some, but for me, it was survival—and maybe growth too.

There wasn’t much travel this year. Life asked me to hold on, not move forward too fast, and accept that some seasons are meant for grounding. Still, somehow, I always found my way back to Boracay. Twice this year, I returned—not to escape, but to come home. Despite everything, it reminded me where I belong. I questioned if I was still meant for travel, for creating, for this life I’ve been building—but the opportunities that came my way felt like gentle reminders to grow, to keep going, and to hold on.

2025 also took a lot from me. Friendships shifted. Work slowed. Plans fell apart. Life had a way of stripping things down to what truly mattered. It was humbling in ways I didn’t expect, and uncomfortable in ways I couldn’t avoid. But in the middle of losing so much, I gained something quietly meaningful—a connection that felt safe, steady, and grounding. A reminder that even in uncertain seasons, something good can still find you. And that I still deserve to be loved.

This year, I also became a full-time content creator—something I’ve loved for a long time but now carry with more intention. I still love coffee, food, and travel. I still believe in stories, in documenting moments, in creating even when things feel unsure. The passion stayed, even when the pace slowed.

And then there were my two new constants—Tobi and Chico. Two tiny lives that brought comfort, routine, and warmth into days that felt heavy. Proof that love sometimes arrives quietly, on four tiny paws. Who would've thought I'm also a cat person. Haha! 

I’m deeply thankful for the people who stayed. The ones who listened, guided me, and never made me feel like my rants were too much—even when they were repetitive, even when I needed reassurance more than once. You may never fully know how much you saved me this year.

I may not have achieved everything I hoped for. I still have problems to solve and questions unanswered. But I made it through 2025. I survived it. And that alone feels like something worth honoring.

Here’s to rest, reflection, and a hopeful rise again in 2026.