It took me so long to write about 2025.
I usually write on New Year’s Eve about how the whole year had been.
But 2025 was a bit heavy… I just couldn’t. 🥲
Every time I tried, the words felt like stones.
Not soft.
Not flowy.
Just… heavy.
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| Image via Pixabay |
2025 started quietly. Too quietly. 👀
My writing gigs dried up.
You know that slow panic when emails stop coming in?
When you keep refreshing your inbox like it owes you money? 😭
That was me.
I told myself it was just January.
Then February said, “Relax.”
March said, “Be patient.”
April said, “Sis… we need a meeting.”
The gigs weren’t just slow. They disappeared.
Clients ghosted.
Projects paused.
Budgets “shifted.”
Suddenly I had a lot of time. Too much time.
And time without money?
Very loud. 💀
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I remember sitting at my desk one afternoon. Laptop open. No assignments. No deadlines. Just vibes and Wi-Fi.
I laughed. Then I almost cried. 🥴
Freelancing had always made me feel powerful.
Flexible.
In control.
Now it felt like I was standing on thin ice.
So I did the thing I had avoided for years.
I started applying for full-time jobs.
It was humbling. Very humbling. 😅
You go from “I am a content strategist and storyteller” to “Dear Sir/Madam, I am writing to express my interest…”
The rejection emails?
Professional heartbreak. 💔
“Unfortunately…”
“We regret to inform you…”
“We have decided to move forward with other candidates…”
At some point, I stopped opening them immediately. I’d just stare at the notification first. Preparing my spirit.
Finding a full-time job took time.
Longer than I expected.
Longer than I liked.
But eventually, something came through.
I got a job as a Trade Development Representative at Telkom Kenya.
I remember telling people. Some were excited. Some were confused.
“Sales?”
“You?”
“Why?”
I told myself it was just a season. A stepping stone. A plot twist.
Plot twist indeed. 😮💨
It was all hell for me.
Let’s start with the Monday reviews.
If you’ve ever had a Monday review in a sales department, you know. If you haven’t, just imagine standing in front of numbers that refuse to behave.
KPIs.
Targets.
Conversions.
Activations. 📊
The KPIs seemed impossible for me to attain. I would try. I would sweat. I would walk. I would convince. I would smile until my cheeks hurt.
Still, the numbers would look at me and say, “Not enough.”
There’s something about being in sales that tests your ego daily.
You knock.
You pitch.
You explain.
You persuade.
And sometimes, people just look at you like you’re a disturbance.
People look at you differently when you’re in sales. Some think you failed at something else. Some assume you’re desperate. Some just talk to you like you’re small.
I remember walking around with funny-looking twist-outs on my natural hair that I had plaited by myself.
Not the cute Pinterest kind.
The “I tried” kind. 😭
Then I’d throw a cap on my head to hide the chaos. Every single day.
That cap became part of the uniform.
Part of the survival kit.
But deep down, I knew I wasn’t wearing it for fashion. I was hiding.
Hiding bad hair days.
Hiding exhaustion.
Hiding low confidence.
Till now, I honestly detest wearing a cap. 😅
It reminds me of that version of me. The one who was trying so hard to hold it together. The one who smiled in front of customers and questioned herself in private.
And slowly… my self-esteem dropped.
Almost to zero. 📉
I started doubting everything.
My intelligence.
My choices.
My talents.
I would wake up tired. Not physically. Just emotionally.
I missed writing. I missed words that made sense. I missed creating something and feeling proud. ✍🏽
Instead, I had targets chasing me in my dreams.
There were days I’d stand in the sun too long.
My phone overheating.
My spirit overheating.
Smiling at customers who barely looked up from their phones. ☀️
And then the Monday reviews would come again.
“Why are your numbers low?”
“What happened in your cluster?”
“What’s your plan?”
My plan? Survive. 😭
But here’s the thing.
I stayed.
For 8 months.
Eight long, stretching, character-building months. 💪🏽
And those months were not just about work.
Life was happening in between.
Friendships shifted. Some people disappeared when I was “too busy.” Others disappeared when I had no money. Very educational. 👀
I learned who checks in without needing anything.
I also learned how loud silence can be.
Financially, 2025 humbled me. I budgeted like a professional economist. I calculated everything.
Transport.
Lunch.
Even small treats became strategic decisions.
“Do I need this or do I just want to feel okay?”
There’s something about tough seasons.
They strip you.
You see yourself clearly.
Just you. 🪞
There were moments I felt embarrassed.
Especially when people would ask, “How’s work?”
I didn’t know how to answer honestly without sounding ungrateful.
Because technically, I had a job.
But emotionally? I was tired. 😩
I also gained weight at some point. Stress weight. The kind that sits on your confidence. I stopped taking photos. I stopped posting. I was in my quiet era.
But not the cute “soft life” quiet.
The “I’m figuring things out, please don’t ask me too many questions” quiet. 😶
Some nights, I would journal. Just to remind myself that I was still me. Not just an employee ID. Not just a target number.
I wrote about fear.
About comparison.
About watching peers thrive in careers they loved while I counted SIM cards.
Comparison in 2025 was loud. 📱
But so was growth. 🌱
Because here’s what nobody tells you: even in a job you don’t like, you grow.
I became tougher.
My skin thickened.
My communication improved.
My confidence? Shaky at first. Then steadier.
I learned how to handle rejection without taking it personally. I learned how to show up even when I didn’t feel like it.
And I learned that dignity is not tied to job titles.
Six months later, I knew I couldn’t stay.
Not because I was weak.
But because I was honest.
So I started applying again. Quietly. Strategically. With less desperation this time.
And then… in my eighth month, it happened.
I got another job. 🎉
A better fit. A healthier environment. A place where I didn’t feel like I was shrinking.
When I received that call, I just sat down.
No dramatic scream. No tears. Just deep relief. 🥹
2025 had stretched me. Bent me. Shaken me. But it didn’t break me.
Looking back, I realize 2025 wasn’t a bad year.
It was a refining year. 🔥
The kind of year that peels off your pride.
The kind that forces you to confront your insecurities. The kind that makes you stronger.
It taught me that identity is deeper than income. That seasons change. That it’s okay to pivot. That starting over is not shameful.
It also taught me that I am more resilient than I thought.
And maybe that’s why it took me so long to write about it.
Because 2025 was not aesthetic.
It was not glamorous.
It was real.
It was walking into offices with hope and walking out with “We’ll call you.”
It was showing up to a job you didn’t love and still doing your best.
It was crying quietly. Laughing loudly. Praying seriously. 🙏🏽
It was learning to clap for yourself when no one else is clapping. 👏🏽
And now? I’m grateful. 🤍
Not for the stress. Not for the tears. But for the strength.
2025 showed me that I can survive discomfort. That I can hold on for 8 months in a place that stretches me. That I can lose gigs and still not lose myself.
It showed me that my story is bigger than one bad season.
So yes. It took me so long to write about 2025.
But now I can say this with a small smile:
It was heavy.
But it built me. 💛
And the beautiful thing?
2026 has started on a better note. 🌅
Not perfect.
Not magical.
Not soft-life influencer level.
But lighter.
There’s peace. There’s clarity. There’s alignment.
Opportunities feel intentional.
Conversations feel different. I feel different.
I’m no longer operating from panic. I’m operating from purpose. 💫
And I’m sure this is the year I step fully into myself.
The year I stop shrinking.
The year I stop apologizing for evolving.
2025 stretched me.
2026 is positioning me.
And I am very, very proud of the girl who didn’t quit. 🤍✨
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