A Passing Year, A Passing Self

As a person who has always lived in emotional highs and lows, the lead singer of my stage had always been guilt. My mind constantly inhabited a place between worry and self-blame, replaying memories and linking possible causes of resentment back to me.

In time, accountability faltered, allowing others to take advantage of my sensitivity. People kept calling me naive, thinking that I was being deceived. In truth, I’ve always been aware of everything, but I kept gaslighting my judgement, thinking it was never my right to be resented. Piling everything within, I silenced myself for the sake of being seen, growing an identity I thought would free me from the burden on my chest, forsaking my essence to please everyone else but myself.

Whenever I cried my father called me weak. That I wasn’t strong enough for this world, not respectable in societal terms. But what do tears stand for if one is meant to remain iron?

The truth the world left me with didn’t have soft edges.

In the 21st century, humility is seen as a weakness. Revealing myself equalled giving away my power.

In time, the cost of making myself seen became losing myself, and losing myself meant never truly being seen. Still, instead of questioning, I complied, unaware that being seen was seeking validation in disguise. I ended up nurturing my growth in a single direction of being the good girl. Yet, the greater goodness comes from within, but wholeness diminishes if one chooses to define themselves according to the way other people perceives. Whenever my actions slipped slightly off, a sense of incongruence wrapped itself around me and I drowned in existential crisis without realising that labels only had subjective meanings, making it inevitable to become something that falls short of one’s entire essence.

Looking back, I have more regrets when I acted out of being good compared to acting for the sake of my own happiness. They often say “what you give is what you get,” but the more understanding I offered, the less I received. When the version of me that acted out of joy became a duty and a quiet rebellion began to forge itself within, and I realised that the point was never about being seen.

The point was about being heard.

Being seen was someone noticing my presence, acknowledging my role, validating my identity on their terms and observing the surface. Even if someone sees you, their perception shifts your reality.

Whereas being heard was someone understanding the meaning behind what I say, holding space for how I feel rather than how I appear, meeting me where I am, not where they want me to be.

This year has been a year of transformation, a year where I found my voice and I realised a shift where I try to live an old life with a new self.

A self that no longer indulges in people pleasing. A self that is effortless. A self that is just being.

A self I would not have reached without you.

Your presence, your words, your willingness to meet me where I was, created a space that felt like shelter, making this community feel like home. Not because we are perfect, but because we are learning how to be human together.

You showed me that being understood is not a luxury, it is a shared act of care. And it means more than anything to me to offer that same care back to you. To make this a place where you can rest. Where your voice can breathe.

Where being heard is not a request, but a given.

Gandhi said, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” I want to live that here with you by passing the torch to another voice.

With so much gratitude for this community, I proudly introduce the winner of my End-of-Year Contest, who will carry the final piece of 2025 from our page into the world: Fiona Bridges

Thank you to the contributors. You didn’t just participate, you held a piece of this with me. I am grateful for every effort, every sentence, every heartbeat you offered.

I will be publishing the winning piece as a guest post tomorrow.