09/02/2026
While 2025 was my wake-up call, 2026 has been my year of loss—although I prefer to call it aggressive shedding.
The removal of support structures that were never actually healthy or felt good has created a profound sense of loss.
I think one of the hardest parts has been learning to hold two completely counterintuitive truths at the same time.
Relationships can be toxic and damaging to your well-being, yet still feel less scary than being alone.
Being completely overworked with no time to rest can somehow feel more familiar and safe than waking up to days with no demands.
Being around people all day—even when it doesn’t feel good—can sometimes be easier emotionally than sitting alone with your own thoughts and feelings.
I’ve learned that something doesn’t have to be healthy to feel like a support structure.
And removing it doesn’t necessarily create immediate relief. Sometimes it creates a giant empty space where something used to be.
But when I look out into the world, I’m reminded that there really isn’t rebuilding without some process of breaking down first.
You can’t grow a beautiful garden without pulling out the dead foliage.
You can’t build your dream home without being willing to demolish the condemned one sitting on the land.
Trees drop their leaves and become bare bones before entering their next season of growth.
There’s really no way around it. You have to clear out the old to make space for the new.
And I think the in-between is the hardest part.
When you’ve removed the old, but haven’t yet built the new.
When you know you can’t go backward, but you can’t see what’s ahead of you either.
That’s where I am.
And it’s scary as hell sometimes.
But just because I can’t see what’s coming yet doesn’t mean nothing is coming.
We don’t see what’s happening underneath the soil after we plant something. For a while, we just see dirt.
Nature reminds us constantly that everything has seasons. Things grow, bloom, die back, shed, become bare—and grow again.
So maybe 2026 isn’t really my year of loss.
Maybe it’s the year I finally became willing to clear out what wasn’t right for me, even without having guarantees about what would replace it.
And maybe this uncomfortable space I’m standing in isn’t the end of something.
Maybe it’s the space where the next part gets built.
DW LAW #8: Thou shall not mistake survival for living.
Done Waiting™
