It’s that time again—the moment when everyone in Bloggerland feels morally obligated to publish a year-end reflection. Consider this your official disclaimer: my 2025 year in review is not a “rah-rah, crushed my goals” kind of post.
What did I expect from 2025 a year ago? Honestly, I’m not sure I really knew. What I do know is that 2025 wasn’t dramatic or flashy—but it was real. No big pivots. No dramatic reinvention. No headline moments. But it was quietly formative.
If I had to summarize 2025 in one phrase, it might be this: slower than planned, but richer than expected.
The year started off strong. I had plans. Momentum. A clear sense that growth was ahead. What I did not plan for was learning personal growth through enforced stillness. Turns out, “forced rest” is not my preferred method of self-development.
In February, life knocked me down—quite literally. A serious infection in my leg led to surgery and more than three months of recovery. With it came deep frustration: not being able to move, train, or return to physical activity easily. And then came the mental challenge of starting over physically, from a place far behind where I thought I should be.
Recovery rarely teaches lessons on our own schedule, but lessons were definitely learned. Slowing down forced me to notice things I might have otherwise ignored—about myself, my limits, my impatience, and the world around me. I became intimately aware of how patience (or the lack of it) shows up when it’s most needed.
And yet, those struggles were only a small part of the larger story.
Looking Back: My 2025 Year in Review
This year brought an actual change of place—a new home in a new neighborhood here in Phuket—but also an emotional shift. A new rhythm. A transition from hardship into quiet rebuilding. I worried the new place wouldn’t feel like home. I was wrong. Almost immediately, there was a sense of contentment. Familiarity grew quickly, and over time, so did the feeling of being rooted.
Travel this year looked different too. Rather than being an achievement, it became enrichment. Three days in Kuala Lumpur, a week in Ho Chi Minh City, and two weeks in Vientiane didn’t change my life—but they did change my perspective. These weren’t trips that demanded meaning or transformation. They simply were. Travel as texture, not transformation. And somehow, that was enough.
But if I’m honest, the true heart of 2025 wasn’t movement at all—it was learning to embrace a quieter life.
Sunsets and coffee on the beach. Walking everywhere instead of relying on taxis. Building meaningful relationships with Thai friends and neighbors. Slowly coming to know, understand, and love this country and its people in an unassuming, everyday way. Quiet no longer feels lonely. It feels like abundance.
This year also clarified something important for me: not everyone is meant to walk every season with us. Some people faded quietly into the past. Others stormed out, leaving a wake in their path. And others—unexpectedly—became a source of steadiness, laughter, and genuine friendship. I’ve learned to hold that with gratitude rather than regret.
After a season of heartbreak that nearly broke me, I didn’t expect to learn what real love actually feels like. Not the dramatic kind, but the steady kind—rooted in trust, safety, humor, and presence. I’m deeply grateful for a relationship that supported healing rather than demanded it, and for discovering what it means to feel secure, seen, and genuinely known.
Professional Growth: Teaching, Building, Creating
Professionally, 2025 has been a year of meaningful growth as well. I’ve now been teaching with Preply for two years, reaching 115 students and teaching over 2,250 lessons. Alongside that work, I continued supporting students through Preply while also offering private English lessons through my own site—creating space for deeper, more personalized learning. But beyond the numbers, I’ve continued investing in my own development and am currently working toward my Advanced TEFL Certification. I’ve expanded my website and brand, focusing on creating thoughtful, high-quality content not only for my students, but for learners beyond individual lessons.
I don’t view my work as simply instruction. I see it as relationship-building. And in this season of life, my work feels more aligned than ever—as I look for ways to serve my students with intention, care, and depth.
Family: The Deepest Joy
But what about my deepest joy—the truest heart of what matters most? My family.
This year brought the indescribable experience of becoming a grandmother for the first time—clearly to the most beautiful baby in the world—and the joy of knowing a second grandchild is on the way. There’s nothing quite like that first grandbaby. The love arrives fully formed, overwhelming, and completely unapologetic. Words don’t quite touch it.
It’s also been a year of watching my own children reach milestones and step confidently into new seasons of their lives. There is a different kind of pride that comes with watching your children flourish as adults—cheering them on from the sidelines, trusting the foundation you helped build, and learning when to step back.
As I move closer to the empty-nest years, that quiet shift has become more noticeable. The days of rushing multiple kids to swim practices, drilling math facts, finishing school projects, and reading bedtime stories are behind me. In their place is something softer and no less meaningful—a season marked by mutual respect, shared laughter, and the quiet joy of watching your children live fully into who they’re becoming.
It’s a different kind of joy—but a deeply satisfying one.
Looking Ahead
As I look toward the year ahead, my focus remains much the same—though my vision continues to widen.
I want to keep creating thoughtful, high-quality educational content for my students and for learners beyond the virtual classroom. I have big ideas for the coming year, but more than anything, I’m interested in depth over speed and service over scale. I want to continue finding meaningful ways to support, encourage, and teach—meeting students where they are and helping them move forward with confidence.
There’s no urgency to reinvent or rush what’s unfolding. Just a quiet excitement about what’s possible, and a willingness to let the next season develop with intention.
Closing Note
If 2025 taught me anything, it’s that growth doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it arrives quietly—through stillness, through consistency, through showing up in small ways day after day.
This wasn’t a year defined by milestones or dramatic shifts. It was defined by presence. By healing. By steady work. By meaningful relationships. And by learning that a quieter life can still be a very full one.
As this 2025 year in review comes to a close, I’m reminded that progress isn’t always loud—sometimes it’s simply steady. And as I step into the new year, I’m carrying gratitude, clarity, and a deep appreciation for the ordinary moments that, over time, become extraordinary.
