Remembering Who I Am (And Practicing It Daily)

It’s the final month of 2025.

And while I don’t subscribe to the idea that change only gets permission once a year, at the stroke of midnight on January 1^st, there is something about the twelfth month that carries weight. Not because of the calendar, but because of the collective energy we sit inside. Whether we’re conscious of it or not, we move within shared rhythms of reflection, closure, and meaning making.

So, this month, I’ve been reflecting.

Not on the external tick-list version of success - exams passed, teams made, rankings achieved - but on something far more meaningful to me now:

1. How did I expand this year?

2. How did I meet myself when it was uncomfortable?

3. Who did I become when no one was watching?

   
   

I’m far more interested in who I am in relationship with myself than how I measure myself against anyone else.

Still Returning (Turns Out It’s Not a One-Time Event)

During recent solo travels through Japan and Thailand, just me and a large backpack - I reflected on something that still feels both radical and deeply simple:

I am still returning to my true self.

Not the conditioned version of me.

Not the version that does what’s expected or most acceptable because everyone else is doing it.

And not the high-achieving, A-type version striving to be “better” based on someone else’s definition of better.

And honestly - who decided that definition anyway?

Was it something we were praised for?

Something that once kept us safe?

A rule we never agreed to, but kept following anyway?

I’m still noticing how much of what shapes us, can arrive without asking.

What I’m unlearning daily is this:

I was always enough.

Nothing needs fixing.

Nothing needs proving.

Only remembering… and then having the courage to live from that place.

Questioning the Default Settings

As I continue to strip away expectations placed on me by family, education systems, workplaces, and social norms, I see how much of our lives are shaped by unquestioned defaults:

1. We work as if rest must be earned

2. We confuse being needed with being valued

3. We buy more, consume more… because someone said that brand, car, or lifestyle means something

4. We scroll other people’s lives and quietly reassess our own

5. We trust experts more than our own inner signals

6. And we live inside stories we didn’t consciously choose.

This year, as I stepped out of the noise, something quieter and truer emerged.

A softer version of me.

A version that slows down.

That smells the roses.

That notices how fast the rest of the world is moving - and what has always been there when you look more deeply.

I also noticed this:

When I go too fast, I lose perspective.

The Gift of Time, Space, and (Some Discomfort)

The real gift of 2025 for me was time and space.

Time to reflect.

Space to feel.

Room to go inward rather than constantly externalising everything.

And yes, going inward is uncomfortable. Hugely so.

But also… what an experience.

Travelling alone reminded me of something else:

People are fundamentally good.

The kindness I experienced - simple, quiet, human - stood in stark contrast to the stories we’re constantly fed about how broken everything is.

(Which is also why I still don’t watch the news - my nervous system thanks me).

Perspective, I’ve learnt, requires distance.

And curiosity.

The kind children have before we train it out of them.

Embodiment Over Avoidance

This year taught me something I couldn’t have learned any other way.

I stopped distracting myself from pain and tough emotions.

In 2025, I sat in all the discomfort. Fully.

I felt it deep in my stomach - the same familiar anguish I carried as a child. A pain I spent years trying to escape. For a long time, alcohol did that job. Until it didn’t.

This year, I didn’t run.

I stayed out of the stories. I didn’t analyse or justify. I breathed. I allowed.

I listened to my body, through movement, yoga, and stillness.

And then… it passed.

Not because I fixed it.

But because I stayed.

Even when life is challenging, I meet it differently.

How I’m Living This Now

As I move toward 2026, my intention is simple and not always comfortable:

To choose love over fear in my decisions.

To move toward what expands me rather than what contracts me.

Even when it feels awkward.

Even when it challenges old patterns.

Even when it would be easier to stay small.

This is where real change lives.

I’m committed to rising to my challenges and meeting them with presence.

My inner work has sharpened my awareness of my own judgments and softened my relationship with them. I’m deeply humbled by kindness. And grateful beyond words to live on this extraordinary island called Aotearoa.

And because I’ve walked through some very dark nights of my soul, I now recognise the light with clarity.

That contrast?

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

A Final Reflection

There is no good. There is no bad. There is only what is.

We create the rest through the stories we tell ourselves.

So, I’ll leave you with this:

What is the story you’re telling about your life?

Is it the one you want to be remembered by, or does it belong to someone else?

Much love,

Bec x