What Didn’t Work This Year
by Tash Brooks
This was the year of losing things I thought I could not live without and realizing I actually could.
This was the year of stripping away.
On paper, it may look like failure. Divorce. Friendship shifts. Titles gone. Invitations that never came. Text threads that went silent. Whole chapters of my life quietly closing. Inside, it felt like standing in the middle of my own life with my hands empty, looking around and thinking, “Wait…. Who am I now, without all of that? Without those people?”
There were days it felt like the universe was taking things from me. The relationship I kept trying to resuscitate. The friendships I kept putting on life support so I would not have to admit they were hurting me more than helping me. At first, it felt cruel. Like I was being punished. Like I had done something wrong. But slowly, in the shock and the quiet, I started to hear another truth. Not everything that falls away is a loss. Sometimes it is a release.
Losing the job showed me how much of my identity I had outsourced to a title and a paycheck. It hurt my pride. It challenged by faith in the Universe/God. It punched a hole straight through the story that said, “As long as I am useful and successful, I am safe.” Losing that story forced me to ask a harder question: Who am I even when I think I’m doing everything right? What happens when it still falls apart?
Losing the relationship showed me the places where I was bargaining with my own worth. The ways I kept twisting myself into smaller and smaller shapes so I did not have to face my truth. There is nothing like heartbreak to reveal the parts of you that still cling to crumbs and call it a feast. When children are involved, believe me, you really can justify it all.
Losing certain friendships showed me how long I had been holding on out of history instead of health. If I am honest, some of these goodbyes had been coming for years. I felt it in the tightness in my chest after phone calls and catch ups. I felt it in the fear of - am I saying the right thing? I felt it in the times where I didn’t want to share my wins or losses in fear of judgment. I felt it in the way I left those conversations feeling smaller, not seen.
I stayed in all of them because the familiar felt safer than the honest. The familiarity of dysfunction is a maze I know my way around. But I have been asking for a full life. More joy, more me. More authenticity.
So this year, life stepped in and did what I was not brave enough to do yet. It made misalignment unbearable. It let conversations fall flat. It let distance grow. It let endings arrive. Growth asked me to take a long hard look in the mirror.
Here is what I am finally learning:
Saying goodbye to what does not fit anymore is not betrayal. It is truth.
You are allowed to outgrow jobs, dynamics, and identities that once fit like a second skin.
You are allowed to say, “This new version of me requires something different now.”
Loss and growth are the ultimate power couple. Loss took things out of my hands. Growth asked, “What will you hold instead?”
I am starting to hold:
Boundaries that do not apologize for existing.
Relationships where I do not have to audition for love.
Work that is aligned with who I really am, not who I think people want me to be.
A quieter, steadier sense of self that is not for sale and not up for a vote.
I will not romanticize it. This year absolutely knocked the wind out of me. Somewhere, somehow I’m still here. Wanting to show up and give more. Being bold (crazy) enough to stare life in the face and say, “Okay, lets try this again. I will love you again.”
I will reveal the truer version of me that has been waiting patiently behind all the performances. I will invest in relationships that feel mutual, and soft, and brave. I will invest in work that does not demand I abandon myself to keep my seat at the table. This year did not give me the life I planned. It gave me the freedom to question why I was clinging to a life that needed me to be smaller in order to work.
If any of this sounds like your year too, here are some questions you can sit with:
Inventory of Endings
What did I lose this year? Jobs, relationships, friendships, identities, routines. List them without judging yourself.
For each one, ask: Was this truly a loss, or a release?
What No Longer Fits
Where in my life did I feel like I was squeezing into an old version of myself just to make things “work”?
If I am honest, what have I outgrown that I am still clinging to out of fear or habit?
The Stories Around Loss
When I think about what ended this year, what story do I tell myself? (For example: “I failed,” “I am not lovable,” “I am too much,” “I am not enough.”)
What might be a kinder and truer story about those same endings?
Grief and Gratitude Together
What hurts the most about what I lost? Let yourself name it clearly.
Even in the pain, what did this loss reveal about what I value, need, or believe?
New Growth
Where did I notice myself growing this year, even if no one else could see it?
What did I start to tolerate less? What did I start to ask for more?
Choosing Yourself
When did I abandon myself to keep something or someone? What did that cost me?
What is one small way I can choose myself more clearly next year?
Blessing the Goodbye
Write a short goodbye letter to one job, relationship, or friendship that ended. Thank it for what it gave you, name what it cost you, and release it.
May we close out this year taking honest inventory of the loss/release so that we may be aware of where we’re going and intentional about what we want to build and with whom.
Love,
Tash