January 1, 2026. The clock has just struck twelve. Everyone around you is hugging, kissing, crying – or all three. The words “Happy New Year” echo around the room, but all you can hear are your own thoughts. One thought, actually.
What a year.
Three years ago, I wrote a blog post about my healthier approach to New Year’s Resolutions. From setting out to read one book a week to ringing in 2024 in a fabulous location, it’s safe to say that my priorities have shifted over the years.
Looking back, my goals at the end of 2022 were a perfect reflection of where I wanted to be by the end of 2023: better travelled, more confident, more independent. More, sparkly.
My goal at the end of 2023 was simple: keep doing what I’m doing.
That was a good year.
By the end of 2024, it wasn’t so much a set of goals that I wanted to carry with me into the new year; it was an intention.
2025 is the year that I return to myself.
And what would “returning to myself ” look like, you ask? I had absolutely no idea.
Welcome to 2025 – the year of uncertainty, doubt, and a handful of existential crises.
January – The one where she avoids reality by going to Italy…
If there’s one major lesson I’ve learned this year, it’s that savings are called “savings” for a reason. What I’ll also say is that I absolutely do not regret going to Italy in January. Not only was it one of the best trips of my life, but it quite literally saved me from the worst of the “January Blues.”
Spoiler alert: the blues eventually caught up to me.
Anyway… January was, surprisingly, not a bad month at all. It was pretty great, in fact. I spent a week in my favourite city (Rome), took a day trip to Naples (my new other favourite city), ate good food, gave my niece a copious amount of cuddles, spent time with family – the lot, the good stuff.
January was a great month, because a) I allowed myself to just be, and b) it still hadn’t quite sunk in that I was starting from scratch.
January 17. I returned from Italy feeling one part inspired, one part terrified. The money I had in the bank was dwindling, as was my ability to “just be”. So, I made the first brave move of the year: I opened up my laptop with the determination to land a fantastic job by the “end of February/March”.
Notice the quotation marks? Yeah.
Cue a series of months that were equal parts promising and unpromising.
February; March; April – the one(s) where she ebbed and flowed between hopeful and hopeless…
If you’ve ever watched Gilmore Girls, you might recall the episode where Rory is told by her boyfriend’s dad – a mogul in the journalism world – that she “hasn’t got what it takes” to be a journalist. I remember watching that scene for the first time and being so shocked. How dare he?! I thought.
I then watched the series again. And again. And again. Until it finally hit me.
Upon my rewatch(es), what shocked me most about the scene was not Mitchum’s harsh words. It was the realisation that Rory – our Rory – the Rory who always got what she strove for, was told no. For the first time in her life, she was told no. And she had no idea what to do with it. How could she? How does anyone grapple with a “no” when all they’ve ever known is “yes”?
Now, I can’t sit here and say that I’ve never been told “no”. Of course I have. But when it comes to work, it’s pretty much always been a “yes”. Or a “we’d love to offer you…”, if we’re being accurate.
Where Rory Gilmore and I met in 2025 was between February and April. The “we’re sorry to inform you…” months, as I like to call them. From interviewing for a front-of-house role at an esteemed law firm to a content writing role at a digital marketing company, I experienced my fair share of rejection during these months. Such emails became so frequent, in fact, that I seldom read them in their entirety. Just look at the first sentence, I’d tell myself. That’ll give you your answer.
Those were my “Rory Gilmore months.” A cycle of opportunities which seemed, at the time, like they were being snatched away by some unrelenting force.
Kinda dramatic, I know. But still, isn’t it crazy where your mind goes when you feel like the whole world is against you? When your days consist of nothing more than application after application, rejection after rejection?
Nevertheless, if there’s anything that my Rory Gilmore months taught me, it’s that once you’ve escaped the stagnancy, you quickly forget what having “nothing on the agenda” actually feels like. You’ll eventually yearn to just hop on a train, dump your suitcase in the back of your dad’s van, throw on your pyjamas, grab a glass of wine, and sit with your parents.
I had to wait a good seven months before I could do any of that.
Cue the busiest and arguably most chaotic period of 2025.
May; June; July; August; September – the one(s) where she laughed, cried, and made an obscene amount of coffee…
At this point in the year, I really was starting to think I’d never make it to Manchester. I had compiled an impressive collection of “we’re sorry to inform you” emails and a burning desire to call it quits.
The catch? I didn’t actually know what the “it” I was abandoning was…
That’s why I kept going.
Something made me want to return to the UK; something made me get on that plane; something made me wake up each day ready to tackle every application I had saved in my bookmarks; something made me want to be in Manchester, in whatever capacity.
That “something” certainly wasn’t a burning desire to brew coffee, but it was a good place to start.
And so, I took a job at a quiet café in a quiet town just outside Manchester. And it was okay, for a while. It paid the bills, kept me busy, and kept me somewhat social. What it wasn’t doing, however – and what all the coffee in the world could never cure – was preventing the feeling that time was running out.
That’s when the panic set in.
All of a sudden, what was originally supposed to be a “short-term” thing – a stopgap until my dream role came along – started to look a lot more permanent.
Thus, cue what panic tends to set in motion: rash (but sometimes wonderful) decisions.
October; November; December – The one(s) where she started an internship, moved out, went to Italy (again), and got the job…
It’s funny… until just recently, whenever I thought back on everything that’s happened this year, my initial thought would be: well, not much. For months and months, I was honing in on all the time I spent waiting around for other people to deliver me good or promising news. I was honing in – as we all do at some point – on all the times when it felt like “nothing was going on”.
But here’s the catch: nothing is ever not going on.
October 3. The day I quit my job.
It’s never easy writing a letter of resignation. Never mind sending one. This time was no exception. But I had to do it.
The moment I hit the ‘send’ button on that email, something shifted inside me. I felt free. I felt exactly like I did when I was strolling the streets of Rome and Naples earlier in the year – bound to nothing but the hope that something great was waiting for me.
And it was.
I just had to jump through a few more hurdles before I could get there.
Fast-forward to mid-November. My internship had ended, I had moved into a new flat, and I was networking like it was nobody’s business. Networking AND applying for jobs. The age-old saying, “everything happens for a reason”, reverberating around me, day in, day out.
And it really does.
In the same week when I was rejected from a job that I was undeniably sure I was right for, I was offered a dream position at my dream company.
In the same week when I felt like the world was starting to work against me, again, the world turned round and said: I’ve got you.
December – the one where she can’t quite believe she’s writing this…
December 20. I’m home for the holidays. My family are out Christmas shopping, the tree is sparkling, and everything feels… warm.
December 20. I’m writing this with the understanding that:
a) I’m starting a new job – a new chapter – in January.
b) Every “no” or “you’re not quite right”, every tear, and every existential crisis was the universe’s way of guiding me towards where I’m meant to be.
It’s been one hell of a year; I can say that for sure. But it’s also been a beautiful year.
Exactly one year ago today, I was on a plane, going from Portugal to the UK. I was moving from adventure, certainty, and comfort toward the possibility of new adventure, definite uncertainty, and possible discomfort.
Exactly one year ago today, I had absolutely no idea that I’d be where I am today: undeniably sure that I am exactly where I’m meant to be.
Here’s to 2026 – the year I’ve been waiting a whole year for.
Writings of a Dreamer 
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