2025: Not the Year I Planned, But the One I Lived

2025 - “It’s going to be my year.” Yep, I started 2025 with the phrase most of us use.  It was and wasn’t the year I anticipated.

The light at the end of the tunnel felt bright. I could feel the warmth of finishing treatments. I was cautiously and skeptically stepping into a year without cancer. I took my final round of chemo and cried in relief. I was hopeful, but guarded. Maybe I knew deep down it wasn’t truly the end, but I refused to let that thought fester. I needed to believe it was over.

I started recovering.
I started being more present.

I was excited to say, “Yes, let’s do that,” without hesitation. I didn’t have to carry around a calendar filled with appointments and chaos. I could travel without medications that made TSA ask questions. The fog that had wrapped around my thoughts began to lift, and I started creating again.

I had energy for my passions. I discovered a new way to share my love of sewing. I wrote a book. It had been years in the making, and honestly, I shocked people with that one. But it came out, and people started to understand the shoes I put on every day , the challenges I hid and why I kept going.

We took a family trip to Vegas. We laughed. We celebrated. We lived.
I went on a girls’ trip to Mexico. We laughed. We explored. We celebrated.

I went to birthday parties. I took day trips with my husband. I poured myself back into sewing my core products and expanded into fun ones that made people giggle. Life felt lighter.

Then I hugged my dog Lucky one last time and watched his soul leave his body. I still question if it was the right decision. I miss my boy more than I can put into words.

As I began to feel creative again, I had a wild idea. One of those ideas you sit with quietly because you’re not sure you’re good enough to bring it to life. Then one day, someone casually said, “Hey, have you ever thought about doing something like this?”

It knocked the wind out of me.

It was the exact idea I had been holding inside, afraid to claim. I took it as my sign. Yes, you are good enough. This is where everything you’ve been through has been leading you. I started planning. Designing. Getting excited. For the first time in a long time, I felt like things were finally lining up.

And then the small symptoms started.

I ignored them. I refused to let anything stop the momentum I had built. I had a routine follow-up with a doctor who was new to me. She didn’t know my history or the quirks of my case. She didn’t know that certain red flags wouldn’t show up in my case and my red flags were totally different.  I used that to my advantage and strengthened my “we are just going to ignore this.”

I breezed through the appointment while a voice inside my head kept yelling, “Sue, knock it off. You know it’s back.”

I ignored that voice too.

The doctor who knows me reviewed the appointment and called me. He called me out, hard. He knew I was downplaying things. They wanted a scan that week. I said no. I mentally and emotionally could not handle it. I needed to live in my peaceful bubble of denial a little while longer. We compromised and scheduled it for November.

I went back to ignoring the signs.

I cried. A lot. Because I was finally building something I was excited about, something that felt like my next phase, and it wasn’t fair that it was about to be derailed just as it began.

When they told me my treatments would last two years I was absolutely crushed. I did what any sane woman does and I emotionally shopped and welcomed a new dog into my life. Meatloaf is my new treatment buddy. I love him deeply, even while my heart still aches for Lucky.

2025 was not the year I hoped it would be.

I am still trying to find all the lessons it was meant to teach me. Some days I am grateful. Some days I am just angry. This time has been different than my first cancer battle. I break down now in ways I never did before, and that has been hard to accept. I am not used to falling apart like this. I am struggling with how hard the treatments are on my physical body this time.

But I have learned.

I learned I needed to streamline how I run my businesses because chaos is not sustainable in survival mode. I learned I don’t have to say yes to every opportunity, especially when it pulls me away from what I already do well. I learned that doing things on my own schedule is not selfish. And if people expect more than I can give, that is on them, not me.

I used to celebrate the end of the year with big goals and bold plans. I am not that person right now. I look at 2026 and shake my head. Planning feels heavy. Motivation comes and goes. I know I am allowed to feel this way, but the word that keeps creeping in is “defeated.”

And yet, when I really sit with it, defeated isn’t the right word.

This year didn’t defeat me.
It changed me, again.

Gratitude doesn’t mean I’m thankful that cancer came back. It means I can hold gratitude and grief at the same time. I can be angry and still appreciate the moments of joy, creativity, laughter, and connection I allowed myself to have. I can miss Lucky with my whole heart and still love Meatloaf fiercely. I can mourn the year I thought I was getting while honoring the strength it took to live the one I actually had.

I am not back to happy me yet. I don’t have a word for 2026, and I don’t need one right now. What I do have is clarity. I know my limits. I know what matters. I know I am allowed to protect my energy and define success on my own terms.

Maybe that’s what 2025 was really about.

Not defeating me, but teaching me how to live with more honesty, stronger boundaries, and deeper compassion for myself, even in the middle of the fight.

Before You Step Into 2026

As this year comes to a close, I want to turn this moment back to you.

You don’t need to label your year as good or bad. You don’t need to wrap it up neatly or pretend you’re okay if you’re not. But I do think it’s worth asking yourself a few honest questions before you move forward.

• What did this year teach you about yourself that you didn’t know before?

• Where did you have to slow down, even if you didn’t want to?

• What are you still carrying that deserves a little more compassion instead of criticism?

Gratitude doesn’t mean ignoring the hard parts. Sometimes it simply means recognizing that you are still here, still trying, still showing up in the ways you can. It means acknowledging the strength it took to survive a year that didn’t go according to plan.

As you think about 2026, maybe the goal isn’t a word or a resolution. Maybe it’s permission.
Permission to rest when you’re tired.
Permission to say no without guilt.
Permission to move forward in a way that actually honors where you are now, not where you think you should be.

If this year changed you, let it. If it humbled you, listen. If it exhausted you, allow yourself to recover.

You don’t have to rush into the next chapter. You’re allowed to turn the page slowly.

Thank you for being here, for reading, for supporting, and for sticking with me through all the stitches, snips, and occasional tangled thread that was 2025.

Here’s to a year where we stop forcing perfect seams, embrace a few loose threads, and remember that life can still be sew much fun, even when it’s a little messy.