This article was first published on my Substack page on 17 January 2025.

I am usually not one for making New Year’s resolutions; I tend to stick to “Another Year on Earth" resolutions, taken during my birthday month. I don’t feel it’s particularly useful to make big decisions during a time that is filled with expectations, stress and for some, anxiety. Add to that the cold and grey days, dark evenings and hopefully, cosy nights in, I think the period around Christmas and New Year is more suitable for slowing down, contemplation and finding joy in where you are at present, sprinkling in a bit of daydreaming about what you want to make happen when life gets a little bit lighter. But this year, at the end of December, I couldn’t help but think about what I wished for myself in the coming year.
So, here are my reflections on a tumultuous year, filled to the brim with change. I realise it’s already a bit late in the year for such a post and you’re likely bored of reading another one of those, but hear me out, it’s part of the plan.
This was the first time I sat down for a few hours to fill in a Year Compass. Some of you might be familiar with this reflection tool: it’s a few pages with probing questions about your experiences of the year just gone by and what your wishes, hopes and dreams are for your personal and professional life in the year ahead.
Looking back
The biggest thing I wanted to achieve in 2024 was to find a new salaried job, which would hopefully give me the peace to soothe my nervous system and space to start writing about veterinary End-of-Life care. I also wanted to leave London and live somewhere where I and my family would find space, a clean and magnificent natural environment and a slower pace of life.
Even though I have found these things in Devon, it didn’t happen without a fight. Ironically, it only happened when I gave up on the fight. I had to find my lowest low to be able to get back up again. 2024 was by far the most difficult year in my life. I realise this makes me a very lucky person, as I continue to have a supportive community around me, and my mental and physical health are still intact.
In 2024 I learnt the importance of setting up clear boundaries, the strength behind my high sensitivity and the need to fiercely protect this superpower. I learnt to make sense of the dynamics with people close and not so close to me, and my role in changing those dynamics. And I learnt what my place is in familial relationships.
After feeling like I was going to lose him, I learnt how deep my love for my feline housemate. Lewis is; the person with whom I, lived together the longest, other than my parents. After over sixteen years of choosing each other every day, I’m not emotionally ready to let him go. However, my rational self knows the odds and the standard trajectory of a cat aged 18 (88 in human years).
I found the joy behind ending things well, such as saying goodbye to the community I built around myself in eight years of living in London and handing over the proverbial keys to one of my businesses to my colleague Tamara. If I had found a job sooner, I’d likely have dropped everything to move away and not been able to take my time with this important process and coming to terms with leaving, and grieving my life in, London. I said goodbye to the dogs, cats and people I will probably never see again, and ‘see you soon!’ to the ones I will continue to visit.
Not the least important, I felt a great sense of pride in having built a life from scratch, in my non-native language and foreign (often odd!) country. Having support from my therapist throughout the year to celebrate the little wins and make sense of everything else was paramount to staying on track and not giving up hope.

What’s up ahead?
For some reason, be it my own hard work (historically and whilst looking for work), the Universe or something else, I was lucky enough to find a salaried job with an employer that recognised my potential, my energy that can move mountains and the willingness to invest in my development and my wellbeing. A full-time job with this organisation means working four days per week. Regular supervision (a form of coaching and reflection) has been put in place to make sure my mental well-being and development are taken care of. I work in a small, cohesive team, led by a fellow powerhouse who is wonderful at taking care of her colleagues. Together with the team, I am exploring what it means to weave slowing down into the work and into life itself. Being part of a growing movement that sees the importance of talking about Endings, it’s easy to get caught up in the vortex and keep running. But the team recognises this is not a sustainable option and there’s a need to set the pace before the pace sets us up for burnout.
This doesn’t mean we don’t have goals and aspirations. Far from it! Our goals for this and the next four years are grand. We just make sure to schedule in slow months, to ensure our pace is sustainable and there is enough space for reflection, learning and adjusting.
I have tried to incorporate this same approach in my personal life. One fine example of my energy and lack of boundaries is when I wrote a full writing and publishing plan for 2025 during my first blog club session last week. This club is a fortnightly online gathering of people wanting to find a supportive space where they would be held accountable to work on whatever they want to work on. Reminding me of my Montessori education and afterschool homework support classes, I jumped on board when I got the chance and started writing an ambitious writing plan for 2025.
One of my goals, next to decelerating life, is to write more about End of Life care for animals. So I set up a writing schedule for my days off. It left little space for unstructured time. I planned to publish one monthly Substack and one thoughtful weekly LinkedIn post. Almost as if I was still running a second business or brand. And then I stepped away from my laptop.
Within a couple of hours, I realised the writing plan left little time for waking up without an alarm, sitting with a snoring cat wherever he decided to lay his head down, or staring out the window watching the birds flutter around the birdfeeder. The writing plan didn’t leave space for days where I just feel mèh or days where the sun is shining and I’d feel like jumping into a cold river or sea. The plan was designed for someone who is going to be equally productive every day of the week. So, I aborted it.
I also deleted all social media apps from my telephone, including Substack and LinkedIn which have a whiff of professional necessity. I haven’t missed their “useful suggestions” and spent my mornings reading books instead.
I have planned for screen-free Sundays every month, during which my husband and I try to not look at our phones, computers or TV for a whole day. And I have started making myself go outside, even if the weather is grim and nobody cares to join me. Instead of choosing two new hobbies to enthusiastically start with this January, I am sticking to one (musical theatre choir) and parking the other (dance) for a later time. The ultimate goal is to stop overwhelming myself and stop allowing others (whether they are people or apps) to overwhelm me.

I have finalised therapy for now, which has created a headspace for living now and feeling, rather than analysing my actions and thoughts. And I continue to schedule regular meaningful conversations with people dear to me, either virtually or in person, rather than just sending a quick WhatsApp or having to catch up on the last half year every six months. Basically, everything planned is either a bid for connection, reflection or feeling deeply.
Living in the countryside, and continuing to cycle and walk to work as I have done in London, will give me more space to live cyclically, be aware of the changing seasons, and hopefully, my decisions for intentional living allow less time for distractions.
It’s all about that SPACE
2025 for me, is all about feeling expansive: creatively, in my ability to appreciate simple things, in learning new skills and in filling my lungs with clean air. I will savour the time I have left with Lewis so that these memories can take up space in my brain, rather than the busyness of life.
I wish for myself to make decisions based on kindness and care for myself, and the headspace to be less attached to (digital) fads (bye anti-ageing, hello ageing-well!). I wish to stop measuring my worth by comparing myself to others, be less reactive and feel emotionally and physically balanced (rather than a wearable telling me what to do).
And finally, I will allow myself time to sleep on a question or remark, before responding. Giving something that might be contentious space to compost and trying to understand where it sprouted from and what the most compassionate way is to respond to it, will not only create a more thoughtful response but also less self-criticism later on.
I am excited to see what 2025 will hold for me. And I thank all of you who have been there on the journey in 2024 for supporting me, offering a shoulder to cry on, your eyes to read my hundred applications and your many cups of tea.
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