As I conclude my ninth cycle, I find myself grateful – for life itself and for the promise of new discoveries ahead.

This journey has taught me to discover my inner strength, to invest in myself authentically. I’m learning to prioritize what truly matters to me, not just what I think should matter.

It’s time to care for myself with the same devotion I’ve given to others.

2024 brought seismic shifts. Children came and went; one left for university on the anniversary of her brother’s passing 23 years ago. Hey, but what’s in a memory, right? Just ghosts passing through.

Others entered my life, took what they needed, and departed when comfort waned, leaving behind a broken house, depleted accounts, and a heart in pieces.

The ache in my chest is as tangible as the tears on my cheeks. My mind wrestles between surrender and perseverance. The primal trauma of motherhood – losing a child, feeling helpless – cuts deeper than any physical wound. I teeter between prevailing and failing, seeking to transform this wheel of suffering into a path forward.

In summer, I spoke magical words, answering a question that manifested months later as a person from three cycles past in my life.

So 2025 beckons as a perfect 10. After all, what more could I need than a Frisian horse in my stable and a Tukker in my bed?

May harmony find you all.