I sat down to write this “end of the year” blog, and my depression brain immediately whispered, “You didn’t do anything this year. Nothing has changed. You’re still depressed.” That part of my mind loves to live in the storyline where everything happens to me, not for me. The “should have, would have, could have” soundtrack clicked on like a broken record, convincing me nothing is, can, or will ever get better, despite the fact that, in reality, so much has quietly shifted.
And yet, here I am in Palm Springs, spending Thanksgiving with a family who made me feel included. I started the morning playing tennis and pickleball, ended the night with Scrabble and Taylor Swift, and the whole day felt surreal. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I was around a family who could just laugh and play games together, no yelling, no fear, no walking on eggshells. It was the kind of holiday I spent years dreaming of without believing I’d get to experience it. And still, depression tries to convince me none of it counts.
Last night I sat in bed, tears streaming down my face, and just let everything be, the gratitude for what is with the grief for what was. All the losses, all the shifts, all the old versions of me that had to fall apart so I could have a moment where I didn’t feel like I had to shrink or scan for danger.
Somewhere between the gratitude and the grief, this month’s Gracefully Chaotic theme clicked into place. Over the past year, people kept asking me: What do you want? Replace the shoulds with wants. (Rewatch 2025 episodes of Normalize The Conversation, it’s a huge theme this year!) I love that idea of living not out of obligation, but desire. But honestly? I get stuck in “I want to, but I don’t want to upset or disappoint someone else.” I get so wrapped up in other people’s feelings that I sacrifice my own.
So, what if “I should” becomes “I want,” and then expands into “I choose”?
Because sometimes wanting isn’t enough, it feels like life gives me no choice at all. But if every action is a choice, even the uncomfortable ones, does that shift the way I move through my life?
I want to show up for my friends, and I get to choose how I do that in a way that still honors me. I choose to answer the phone. I choose not to answer. The word “choose” hits differently. It feels like taking the steering wheel back. I want to be a good human, and I get to define what that even means. I choose to recycle or not. I choose to volunteer or not. I choose to be kind or not. It’s mine.
And all of this made me realize I need to look more closely at the way I’ve been living: Where am I in alignment with what I truly want? Where have I convinced myself I don’t even get to want anymore? Where did I abandon my desires because I believed nothing would work out for me anyway?
Here’s what 2025 taught me: I survived. I have survived every single moment I thought I wouldn’t. I have spent so much time living in fear of not surviving, of things not working out, that I stopped living in so many ways.
In my professional life, I go after everything with zero fear, because the worst-case scenario is that I can try again—just take the new information learned and use it to form a new approach. Yet, in my personal life, I have convinced myself that every decision is permanent and one wrong move will ruin everything. So, I stopped living for me and started just doing what other people needed, because it was easier.
But this is the part where I decide I’m done letting my life happen at me.
If this year taught me anything, it’s that survival can’t be my entire personality anymore. I didn’t rise from the ashes just to keep living on autopilot. Survival was the chapter I didn’t get to choose — but choice? Choice is the chapter I’m writing now.
So I’ve been asking myself the kinds of questions that don’t let you hide beneath the ashes anymore:
What would I want if no one ever told me what to want?
If society’s milestones disappeared — no timelines, no checkpoints, no pressure — what life would I build simply because it felt good in my chest?
If I stripped back every expectation, every “good daughter, good friend, good human” costume — who would be left?
What would I do every day if joy and meaning were the only metrics that mattered?
Because when I shut out the noise, the truth is simple: I want to create, to help, to heal, to build spaces that didn’t exist when I needed them most. I want to build spaces I needed when I was 8, 12, 15, 18, 20 — every version of me that didn’t think she’d make it. I want a life built from intention, not expectation. From alignment, not performance. From choice, not fear.
And here’s what I’m choosing — what I’m building with my actual hands and actual heart:
1. A nationwide mental wellness curriculum based on my workbooks
Kids learning the tools I didn’t have before the world tells them they don’t get to feel. And right now? Multiple districts purchased my workbooks this year. The ripple has begun.
2. A creative therapy protocol in behavioral health hospitals, treatment centers, and other facilities using my board game
A way for people to process, express, and breathe. A practice of self-expression, reflection, and connection — something that turns treatment into empowerment. And this year? I’ve been running it weekly at Didi Hirsch for five months. It’s real. It’s working.
3. An encouragement card in the hands of every person who leaves a psych unit
A simple reminder that hope exists, that someone sees them, that they matter.
And today? We’re approaching 30,000 cards across facilities in FL, CA, MI, and IN. Hope is already traveling farther than I ever imagined.
These aren’t dreams anymore. They’re choices. They’re intentions. They’re the direction my life is pointing, even on the days my brain tries to convince me I’m stuck.
It’s the whisper in the back of my mind that says, Move. Create. Build. They’re the life I’m manifesting through action, not wishful thinking.
So this month’s Gracefully Chaotic theme isn’t just alignment or survival or dreaming. It’s the bridge between them.
Because I finally understand something no one tells you: You don’t attract what you say you want. You attract what you act like you want.
And acting like you want something? That’s choosing, again and again even when it’s messy. So maybe this month’s Gracefully Chaotic theme is exactly that — the moment you stop living for the imaginary audience in your head and start choosing the life that actually feels like yours.
Choosing what nourishes you. Choosing joy without apologizing for it. Choosing boundaries without writing a dissertation explaining them. Choosing to move, even if you’re moving slowly. Choosing the life you once believed you weren’t allowed to want.
Maybe the end of this year isn’t about reinventing yourself at all. Maybe it’s about returning to the version of you who trusted your own desire before the world taught you to shrink it.
I’m choosing the life that feels like mine. I hope you choose yours, too — even if it starts with one small, shaky, wildly brave step.
