At the end of 2020, I wrote a yearly reflection post called I Hope to See a Sunrise. I was in a dark place. I had just gotten out of a somewhat long, deeply complicated relationship, my relationship with alcohol was getting more and more concerning, and of course, the COVID-19 pandemic was still in full swing. The following year, I was able to see numerous sunrises indeed, and the life I had built for myself at my new job was a significant improvement. Five years later, after much change and growth, I find myself yearning to see a sunrise once again.
I’ve never had a great relationship with sleep. Sleeping too little. Sleeping too much. Not sleeping well. Struggling to fall asleep. Above all, the constant theme seems to be the way in which my sleep schedule always inevitably creeps deeper into the night, until I find myself both rising and falling way later than I want to be. Sunrise is always trying to evade me. Common wisdom has it that this may be a circadian remnant of the times in which we humans, roaming wildly in packs, needed people on guard to keep watch during the night. Apparently my body didn’t get the memo that it’s 2026. It barely feels like my mind did.
2025 was a year of great change. The year that started in Western Massachusetts, where I had lived for the past 5 years, ended with me living in the big Francophone city of Montreal. Despite the fact that so much has changed between then and now, I feel as though the uncertainty that hung in the air at the start of 2025 still clouds the air now. Things are different. Perhaps more different than they’ve ever been. But the unease is the same.
It goes without saying that the world is in a serious state of turbulence and unrest. I think it would be foolish to believe that any one of us, no matter our political leanings, is unaffected by the issues of today. Frankly, I have no desire to speak on them in any substantial depth. I just don’t feel compelled to add anything to the conversation that hasn’t already been said. For interesting, well-thought analysis on serious sociopolitical topics, check out my dear friend Joe’s substack.
But that’s just not me. Not today. Not right now. Perhaps I’m just too self-centered to care, or perhaps it feels too big for me to reach out and grasp. Just know that this feeling of existential, geopolitical unrest and uncertainty is the backdrop to this entire entry. It is difficult for me to speak on, but impossible to ignore.
January has always been a month of rest and reflection for me. With my birthday on New Year’s Day it always marks the beginning of a new year of life: in this case, I’m twenty-eight years old. With twenty-eight, I have found myself reflecting back one decade to eighteen. There is a strange sense of nostalgia that comes, perhaps paradoxically, alongside the wisdom of age. I know now things I could never have known back then. About how my life would turn out. How my behaviors would affect me. It is not a time I realistically would wish to return to, but there is somehow still this dreamy appeal in time-traveling back to that relative innocence.
“Relative” is the key word here. I have struggled with mental health issues and physical disability for my entire life, starting in my childhood and only escalating into my adolescence. I was not innocent by any means to the harshness of the world. But there was still an innocence–– looking back from the other side of twenty-eight, I can see it.
For the past few years, as a result of finally finding proper medication, I’ve had a zest for life I never experienced before. This has, on one hand, led to the pursuit of my greatest dream, living in Montreal. But it has also resulted in a deepening disappointment when things don’t always feel amazing. Like somehow, being medicated should mean I’m immune to bad moods. It’s not that simple, but it’s still frustrating. Winter days pass by with nothing getting done. I feel listless. I lose motivation, lose dedication, lose my spark. I feel lost.
But it’s not all bad. When I can see past the fog, I see things so clearly. I love this city, with its vibrant culture and shimmering winter lights.
I love a warm mug of coffee in a cozy café while a blizzard swirls outside.
I love ice cream in the winter.
I love a hike up Mount Royal in the snow.
I love a brisk evening run in the freezing cold, warming my blood and clearing my mind.
I love my friends.
I love my environment.
I just wish I could love it all more unconditionally. I wish that medication was a cure-all for depression: maybe then I wouldn’t feel so guilty when the sadness wins out over everything that’s good.
So, yeah, 2025 was weird. Sure. But it was also amazing. I still have some bad habits I’m trying to kick. Others, I’m trying to keep at bay. Old friends, new friends, old ways of life, new ways of life–– all coming and going. But that’s alright.
Going into 2026, I hope to see another sunrise. So much has changed between 2020 and today. If I could find the sun back then, I know I can find it again now. I just need to keep my eyes up and looking.
P.S. FUCK. ICE.
