Lessons from a Year Unfinished: The Grace of Loose Ends
Finally breaking my silence with deeply personal reflections on the messy, beautiful, and enlightening lessons learned during a transformative year (and some change).
As 2024 came to a close, I struggled to pen a farewell post to one of the most influential years of my adult life. Despite having a lot to say, the words wouldn’t come. When they finally did, something about it didn’t feel quite right; something about 2024 felt unfinished. Whatever it was, it needed more time to brew, to surface.
In January, after digging deep and fidgeting through days of discomfort, I reached some semblance of closure—twenty-some days into the new year. This delay unexpectedly triggered an early round of spring cleaning: “…tying up loose ends, giving myself closure, and letting go of things that are no longer mine to carry”—a sentiment I shared in a message to someone at the time.
In an oddly serendipitous moment earlier that month, I dreamt I was pregnant. I was standing in a brightly lit room, happily cradling my growing bump. It wasn’t my first pregnancy dream, but what stood out this time was the overwhelming sense of peace and happiness. If you’re familiar with dream symbolism, you’ll know pregnancy often signifies the birth of something new: life changes, growth, new beginnings, or creative endeavors.
When I mentioned this dream to my therapist during a session spent painstakingly unpacking December, she gently said, “…it’s time to give birth, Ann.” She was right; it was time. What had been brewing was my metaphorical gestational period—growth, transformation, and a continuation of my metamorphosis. Reflecting back, this brewing had been ongoing, in stages, throughout 2024. I grappled with discomfort, often feeling as though I was stepping backward and undoing some of the progress I'd made in various facets of my life. Yet, as life consistently demonstrates, stepping back is sometimes necessary to propel us forward—like the explosive force behind a cannonball’s flight.
As I ready myself for what 2025 holds, I want to reflect on a few invaluable lessons learned throughout 2024 (and, if I'm honest, spilling over into 2025)—a year defined by discomfort; a year that pushed me far beyond comfort zones and lingering complacency; a year that challenged everything I thought I knew; and ultimately, a year that stripped me down to my most authentic self: a woman unapologetically wearing only her essence, free of accolades, titles, and even a permanent address.
Because this reflection became quite lengthy as I added context and clarity, I've decided to share these lessons one week at a time. I'm genuinely excited to present this series—it quickly became one of my favorite pieces after months of battling writer’s block. Thank you for riding out the silence with me and continuing to tune in. I hope you enjoy these reflections as much as I enjoyed writing them. And I hope you’re doing well and staying healthy. xo
Lesson 1: You Can Absolutely Live Out of Your Suitcase
In fact, don’t overpack—tangibly or intangibly.
At 35, I had my first hostel experience: top bunk, slim closet, zero control over my environment. As someone who grew up with ample privacy and personal space, this was entirely new. Surprisingly, the noise, communal chaos, and ebb and flow of strangers felt relatively manageable. Was it manageable because I'm naturally good at adapting to change—or was it because, after months of solitude, I was finally ready for communal living? Maybe a little of both. Until then, I had been soloing through life: traveling alone, eating alone, adventuring alone—becoming my own best friend, not just a woman confident enough to sit at a restaurant alone without needing a project or distraction.
Yet, one thing became clear very early: I had seriously overpacked. Did I really need four extra pairs of shoes? (Probably not, but who was I kidding—my beloved Aquazzura surf sandals that have been repaired multiple times by a cobbler were absolutely coming with me around the world.) Still, could I have skipped those extra toiletries, easily replaced at any Watson’s (think Walgreens or CVS) or 7-Eleven? Definitely.
But what truly caught me off guard wasn’t my tangible luggage. It was the intangible baggage: grief, loneliness, aspirations, and ever-present questions of purpose and direction. I assumed I'd left most of that behind at my home base. Instead, it followed me, haunted me, and at times taunted me relentlessly. Strangely enough, yet unsurprisingly, the communal chaos sometimes made me feel even more alone. It amplified the voids in my heart, reminding me how far I was from the people I missed—especially those who were no longer just a phone call or flight away. This frequently left me in deep introspection, making it difficult to stay present or connect as meaningfully as I wanted to.
It became abundantly clear that overpacking—whether it’s sunscreen or spiraling thoughts—is unnecessary. Extra SPF? Easy to replace. Answers to your biggest “whys”? They'll surface when you least expect it. Grief? It’ll hit you like a ton of bricks at random—like it did for me over falafels in the middle of Georgetown, Penang.
Instead of carrying these burdens physically and emotionally, I wish I had let go sooner—tossed some unnecessary things into the bin, detached from my spiraling thoughts, and allowed myself to simply be in the moment. To savor it. To be awestruck by it.
Next time, I’ll remember this: Lighten your load, live out of your suitcase, and trust that whatever you truly need—clarity, closure, or SPF 50—will show up exactly when it’s time.
Continue reading the series:
Lesson 2: Anywhere Can Be Home
Lesson 3: Nothing Looks Like the Way You Thought It Would
Lesson 4: “…people can only meet you, as deeply as they’ve met themselves.” – Matt Kahn