There’s a photo of me from last December, standing on the beach in Tofino, drenched head to toe. Not the cute windswept kind of wet, but “just lost a wetsuit wrestling match with the Pacific Ocean” soaked. That image captures the essence of my year—messy, unglamorous, but strangely cathartic. The irony? I wasn’t even surfing. I had slipped on a piece of driftwood while contemplating my “life’s direction” like some moody indie film protagonist. Spoiler alert: I didn’t find it that day.

Looking back, my year was more "chaotic Netflix drama" than glossy Instagram highlight reel. But through these messy moments came clarity, growth, and an oddly satisfying sense of humor about it all. If you’re feeling like your life just boarded the express train to Disaster Town, let me tell you: you’re not alone. And yes, you can find your way back.

Chapter 1: The Free Fall Begins

We’ve all had that year. The one where the universe seems to hand you a bingo card of bad luck, checking off squares like “unexpected breakup,” “career burnout,” and “existential dread.” For me, it started on an unassuming Tuesday when I spilled cold brew all over my laptop, effectively killing my entire writing portfolio. (If you ever want to feel truly untethered from modern life, try losing years of work in a single caffeinated swoop.)

Soon after, my long-term relationship imploded in a mop of mismatched expectations, and my lease ended, leaving me packing boxes while listening to the saddest Phoebe Bridgers playlist imaginable. By late July, I was Googling “can humans hibernate?” because let me tell you, staying horizontal until spring felt like my most realistic strategy for personal growth.

Chapter 2: Turning Points and Terrible Advice

If there’s one thing people love to do when you’re down, it’s dish out cheerful platitudes masquerading as wisdom. “Everything happens for a reason!” they’d say, or my personal favorite: “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” Newsflash—sometimes it just gives you a metaphorical limp and a Dunkin’ loyalty card of bad decisions.

But buried in all the unsolicited pep talks was one nugget that stuck: “Turn toward what makes you uncomfortable.” I hated how much I needed to hear it. My natural instinct was to run, to numb out with drama-filled TV shows or spend hours spiraling on Instagram comparing my life to people doing yoga in Bali. Instead, I began to sit with discomfort: the fear of starting over, the uncertainty of who I was without a partner in my life’s equation, and the crushing imposter syndrome that came from trying to rebuild a career as a writer.

Chapter 3: Finding Myself, One Small Step at a Time

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you about climbing out of a personal pit of despair: it’s slow. Forget some epic cinematic comeback story. Fixing your life is more like assembling IKEA furniture—you’ll curse repeatedly, lose a few pieces, and realize way too late that you’ve been using the wrong instructions.

Here’s how I began piecing it back together:

  • I Went Outside (Even When I Didn’t Want To): Vancouver’s rain has a way of sapping your motivation, but I forced myself to get outside daily, even if it was for just 15 minutes. Walking through Pacific Spirit Park with its towering trees and earthy smell reminded me that it was okay to move slowly. Nature doesn’t rush, so why should I?
  • I Learned Something New: In August, I signed up for a pottery class. My first bowl was crooked enough to be mistaken for abstract art, but it gave me something to look forward to every week—an outlet where mistakes were not only allowed but embraced.
  • I Let Myself Be Bad at Things: Fun fact: not every passion comes with a side of talent. When I tried surfing in Tofino (hence the aforementioned photo), I learned I’m uniquely terrible at balancing on moving water. But laughing at myself—a lot—reminded me that failure isn’t fatal.

Chapter 4: Love Found Me Anyway

And then there was dating—a topic I avoided longer than Kim Kardashian avoids carbs. When I finally re-entered the scene, I was coming in hot with zero expectations and a healthy dose of snark. My first post-breakup date? A trivia night fiasco with a guy who answered every question as if auditioning for Jeopardy! Don’t get me wrong; it was endearing, but his insistence on using “ipso facto” made me feel like I was dining with the ghost of Socrates.

I realized that I was no longer swiping or meeting people out of loneliness. For the first time, I wasn’t searching for someone to “complete” me, because—plot twist—I was finally learning to feel complete on my own. A concept both Oprah and my therapist had tried to drill into my head for years.

Later that fall, I met someone who saw my chaotic energy, not as a red flag, but as a hilarious adventure they wanted in on. We didn’t fall in love in a fireworks-and-slow-motion kind of way; it was more like realizing you’ve been walking the same street for ages and finally noticing the cozy café hiding in the corner.

Chapter 5: The Lessons I Didn’t Want but Kind of Needed

I’d love to tie up this story with a neat bow, claiming I’ve fully figured things out. But here’s the truth: self-reinvention is ongoing. Some days I feel like Beyoncé at Coachella; other days, I’m just trying not to microwave a fork by accident.

What I can tell you is this:

  • Life will throw you curveballs, and you probably won’t catch them all (or any, let’s be honest). That’s okay.
  • Nobody’s timeline looks the same—whether it’s love, success, or just the magic of getting out of bed before noon.
  • The hardest, messiest parts of life will become the best stories you’ll ever tell.

Closing Time

When I look back on this past year, I don’t see a polished final product. What I see is a messy, beautiful draft—a year where everything fell apart but something lovely began to take shape amid the debris.

So, wherever you are—whether you’re standing in the rubble or starting to rebuild—know this: the story isn’t over yet. And standing out there in the rain, drenched to the core, doesn’t mean you’re lost. Sometimes, it just means you’re ready to make your way back to shore.