A reflection on 2025

I don’t have a story to tell. 

This is the phrase that plays on repeat when I try to vlog, make a video, write, or make any sort of personal creative output. It’s the reason my blog posts marinate for a year before I publish them.

Because my life is pretty basic, right?

I’m a 28 year old elementary music teacher, I’ve been living at home with my mom and my sister in the house I grew up in, I have no love life or romance to speak of, I like to garden, spend time with my chickens, do needle crafts, and…that’s pretty much it.

So when I decided to start making videos four years ago, I told myself I was documenting. That I didn’t care who saw it, or about subscribers, or numbers. I was doing it because I wanted to make things. 

That wasn’t true for very long, if it ever was to begin with. The first vlog-style video I posted on my channel was also, coincidentally, the first video I had ever made and edited. Quality-wise, it’s a beginner video. But I kept going. I was slowly gaining subscribers, having fun filming, and living my life, and then….I got a new camera for Christmas. A DJI pocket two. Naturally, I made a quick video about it, what I liked, comparing it to my phone, and posted it without a thought.

That was my first video to get a lot of views. I mean, a LOT. It’s sitting at over 20,000 views now, and that’s pretty awesome. Except…. It kinda ruined the magic for me very early on. People talk about going viral, and while that many views may no longer count as viral, it was overwhelming. It made me feel pressured to become someone that I am not, and I was a little lost. I got locked into the “I’m going to make this because I think people want to see this” loophole. It’s now been several months since I’ve posted anything. 

Lately, I’ve actually been trying to live my life. Partake in my hobbies because I like them and want to do them, not because I want to have something to market, sell, or show off. Here’s what I’ve learned since trying this life experiment: 

- It’s much easier to sit down and do the things I enjoy when I don’t have the thought of people perceiving me in the background. This should be obvious, but in our world of hyper-connectivity and oversharing, it’s a logical assumption that everyone wants and needs to know that I am still working on a cardigan I started in 2021. Right? 

No, instead, that piece of humanity feels like it should be reserved for me. So I began, in 2025, holding secret humanities and pieces of myself tighter to my chest than before. Corralling my impulses, my failures, my successes, and keeping them safe in the shelter of the moment they occurred in. I shared bits here and there, holiday photos, pictures I liked of me or my life, but the tender parts of my heart stayed analog. That’s the new buzzword. Analog. Meaning, not digital, away from the eyes of billions of people, free from judgment by international peepers. 

Most people use that word incorrectly now. Analog, (ironically) to the trends on the internet, means not on social media. A step forward, yes, but now people are filling their hours watching people tell them to be offline, instead of just disconnecting themselves. I am including myself in this generalization. 

The latter half of my year was focused on moving and being a real human. Yes, I did finally move out of my family home, into a cute little townhouse apartment. I have simultaneously more space and less space than I’ve ever had. But I like the town we moved to! There are a multitude of opportunities to be a part of the community, bookclubs, library activities, etc. It’s still an adjustment, though. I feel like a new person there. New room, new town, new creepy building noises, all things that indicate a big change. 

The change, indeed, was big. Formidable. New and looming, but fresh. Like going to hike a new mountain, one that’s bigger than you’ve ever climbed. But this time, you’re ready and equipped to handle the roots and brambles. 

That’s what I am doing now. Climbing up this mountain of change, constantly reevaluating my gear, tripping here and there, but moving forward. That’s what matters. I was stagnate in my indecision for so long that taking one step is monumental. Groundbreaking, even. And so here I’ll be for the year of 2026; breaking ground, taking a step, and moving on. 

See you at the top, friends.