January 1, 2026: Coming Home to Myself
Today is January 1, 2026, and there is something beautifully symbolic about beginning the new year with a simple walk. It wasn’t an extravagant celebration or a perfectly planned adventure. It was just my mom, my brother, and me walking around San Francisco after several days of rain. The skies had finally cleared, and it almost felt as though the universe was reminding me that storms eventually pass. Today was also their last full day with me before returning to San Diego, and while there was a bittersweet feeling knowing we’d soon be saying goodbye, I found myself feeling overwhelmingly grateful. After everything that happened this past year, simply being able to spend quiet moments with my family felt like a gift. We didn’t need elaborate plans or expensive outings. Just being together was enough.
My mom has been cooking Filipino food almost every day during her visit, and I have absolutely no regrets about enjoying every bite. I’ve joked that I’ve gained a little weight, but honestly, I wouldn’t trade these memories for anything. Food has always been more than nourishment in Filipino families—it is love expressed through recipes, conversations shared around the table, and the comfort of feeling cared for. Watching my boyfriend enjoy my mom’s cooking has also filled my heart. It reminds me that home isn’t necessarily tied to one place anymore. Home can be built wherever love, acceptance, and laughter exist.
As we walked, I couldn’t help but reflect on everything that 2025 brought into my life. It was, without question, one of the most difficult years I’ve experienced emotionally. Anxiety, depression, uncertainty, and another period of medical leave forced me to confront parts of myself that I had been avoiding for far too long. Earlier in the year, I found myself returning to the Philippines with my mom during another mental health break, trying to piece together what I needed in order to heal. Looking back now, I realize that healing was never about finding quick answers. It was about learning how to sit with uncertainty without letting it consume me.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that I cannot control everything. As someone who naturally overthinks, I have spent so much of my life trying to predict every possible outcome, preparing for every worst-case scenario before it even had the chance to happen. But overthinking has never protected me. If anything, it has only robbed me of peace in the present moment. Slowly, I’ve been learning to loosen my grip, surrender the things I cannot change, and trust that the universe—and God—are guiding me exactly where I need to be. That surrender hasn’t been easy, but it has been incredibly healing. Faith, both in God and in the unfolding of life itself, has become one of the strongest foundations of my recovery.
Another unexpected gift of 2025 was discovering who I truly am beneath all the expectations I placed on myself. For so much of my life, I thought I needed to become more outgoing, more extroverted, more outspoken in order to be worthy of being seen. But this past year taught me that there is absolutely nothing wrong with being the quiet one in the room. There is beauty in being gentle. There is strength in being observant. There is confidence in accepting that my energy doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. At 37 years old, I’m finally embracing my introverted nature instead of apologizing for it. I’m learning that authenticity isn’t about becoming louder. Sometimes it’s simply about becoming more honest.
That same authenticity is what inspired me to begin sharing my story online. Starting my YouTube channel has been one of the most vulnerable things I’ve ever done. There are moments when I wonder if anyone will care about what I have to say or if my experiences are even worth sharing. But every time I speak honestly about my mental health, my anxiety, or my healing journey, I remember why I started in the first place. If even one person feels less alone because they watched one of my videos, then every uncomfortable moment of vulnerability will have been worth it. My goal has never been to appear perfect. My goal is simply to remind others that healing doesn’t have to look polished to be meaningful.
I’ve also realized that growth sometimes means allowing relationships to change. This past year taught me that not everyone who walks beside us is meant to stay forever. Some friendships naturally drift apart as we grow into different versions of ourselves. At first, I interpreted that as loss, but now I see it differently. Those people were important chapters in my story, and I’m deeply grateful for the role they played in helping shape who I am today. Their absence doesn’t erase the love or memories we shared. Instead, it creates space for gratitude, acceptance, and hope that we all continue growing in the directions we’re meant to.
One of the most profound shifts in my healing has been learning to appreciate ordinary moments. During Thanksgiving, I visited San Diego and found myself seeing familiar places through completely new eyes. Places I had passed countless times suddenly felt beautiful in ways I had never noticed before. That experience reminded me that healing isn’t always about changing your surroundings. Sometimes it’s about changing the way you see them. Depression has a way of shrinking the world until everything feels gray. Recovery slowly returns color to places that never actually lost it.
Looking ahead, I know exactly what I want 2026 to represent. I want this to be the year I continue choosing myself without guilt. The year I strengthen my relationship with my family and intentionally create more memories with the people I love. The year I return to the Philippines more often, travel with my mom, laugh more, and worry less. The year I commit to caring for my physical health by moving my body, going on more walks, and treating exercise as an act of self-love instead of punishment. Most importantly, I want this to be the year that I continue sharing my voice, even when it feels scary.
I’m also making a commitment to something simple but meaningful: reminding myself every single day that “it’s another beautiful day to be gorgeous.” At first glance, it sounds playful and a little silly, but behind those words is a deeper intention. It’s a reminder that every day I wake up is another opportunity to choose gratitude over fear, hope over despair, and authenticity over perfection. It doesn’t mean every day will be easy. It simply means every day holds the possibility of beauty if I’m willing to look for it.
When I think about everything I’ve survived over the past year—the anxiety, the depression, the uncertainty, the moments when I questioned whether I could keep going—I feel incredibly proud of myself. There were days when simply getting out of bed was a victory. There were moments when I truly believed life would never feel light again. Yet here I am, welcoming a new year with hope instead of fear. Healing didn’t happen because my circumstances suddenly became perfect. Healing happened because I slowly learned to believe that my story wasn’t over.
So here’s to 2026. Here’s to faith, family, authenticity, healing, and embracing every imperfect step forward. Here’s to letting go of what I cannot control and trusting that life is unfolding exactly as it should. And here’s to continuing this journey—not because I have everything figured out, but because I finally believe I’m worthy of discovering who I’m becoming.
Today really is another beautiful day to be gorgeous.
#HealingJourney #AuthenticLiving #MentalHealth #FamilyFirst #NewBeginnings
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