As the final hours of 2025 fade into memory, I find myself standing still, calm, grateful, and in awe of everything this year has taught me. If 2024 ended in pieces, 2025 ends in peace. This has been a year of awakening. A year of lessons stacked upon lessons, trials that became teachers, heartbreak that became healing, and moments of solitude that became sacred. I’ve met anger, joy, sadness, forgiveness, and clarity face to face, and I finally recognize myself again.

Last year, I ended December full of anger and regret. I was spiritually broken, emotionally exhausted, and carrying pain that didn’t belong in my future. I remember thinking, Why me? It was as if I were watching my life from outside my body, disconnected from the woman I once knew.

But this year?

This was my phoenix year.

I’ve always dreamed of phoenixes, those mythical birds that burn only to rise again, stronger and more radiant than before. 2025 became the embodiment of that dream. Everything that once tried to destroy me became fuel for my rebirth. From finalizing my divorce to rediscovering my identity outside of being a wife and mother, I’ve taken my power back, piece by piece, breath by breath. Tonight, before midnight, I’ll burn my 2025 journal. Not out of bitterness, but out of reverence. Because I don’t carry old ashes into a new fire. This journal tells the story of a woman who walked through flames and didn’t just survive, she rebuilt herself on a stronger foundation, for herself and her children. This year has shown me the mirror of truth. It revealed not only my resilience but my flaws, the anger I once held, the harsh words I once spoke, and the walls I built to protect pain that only needed to be released. Through therapy and intentional self-work, I’ve learned the art of pause, the grace of responding instead of reacting.

Now, I speak with intention. Even in moments of frustration, I choose peace. I no longer let emotions drive my decisions; instead, I let understanding lead the way. I’ve also learned that solitude is sacred. In the quiet, I recharge. I’ve spent more time alone this year than I ever have before, and I’ve realized how necessary it is for my spirit. I can’t pour into my children or anyone else from an empty cup. So I’ve made self-care a promise, not an afterthought… massages, movement, time with friends, and time alone. 2025 also taught me the beauty of energetic preservation, how powerful it is to keep my body, my spirit, and my love sacred and closed off to myself. I’ve learned that my peace is priceless, and not everyone deserves access to my energy.

Tonight, on New Year’s Eve, I’m not out drinking, smoking, or chasing the noise. My house is clean, my spirit is light, and soon, I’ll soak in a salt bath to cleanse what was. I’m entering 2026 with clarity, no grudges, and no unfinished business. Every conversation that needed to happen, happened. Every apology that needed to be spoken, was.

I am free.

2026 isn’t my phoenix year; it’s my foundation year.

The year I stand firmly on what I’ve built.

The year I bloom in the light of everything I’ve learned.

I’m not making a vision board this time. Instead, I’m painting the year I want to live, one brushstroke at a time. I have three short-term goals and one long-term dream I’m chasing by year’s end. And I know, without a doubt, that this is my award year. My new book, Unveiled: The Secrets That Saved Me, releases in March 2026; the true beginning of my new year. It’s more than just a book; it’s the unveiling of the woman I’ve become. God has already shown me it will change lives, including my own. Between now and then, I’ll be finishing the final touches of the book, focusing on my peace, and embracing solitude. I’ve chosen to put a halt on dating, not because I’m closed to love, but because I’m in love with becoming. Unless God Himself shows me my Boaz, my heart stays guarded and my focus stays forward.

Looking back on the past three years; from nearly losing my life in 2023, to losing my marriage in 2024, to rediscovering myself in 2025; I can only thank God for the transformation. What I once prayed He would fix, He chose instead to free me from. Now, co-parenting is peaceful. Life is balanced. My heart is open but not empty. My spirit is full but not burdened. So tonight, as the clock strikes midnight, I’ll be in prayer and meditation, thanking God for the ashes and the fire, and for the wings that grew because of both.

2026, I’m ready for you.

May every reader who’s been following my journey feel this truth deep in your spirit:

You can rise again.

You can lose everything and still win.

You can rebuild from nothing and still create something divine.

The same God who rebuilt me will rebuild you.

All you have to do is let go of the ashes.

Happy New Year, my loves.

May your 2026 be the year you rise.

— Shell