The Debrief

5 things I am taking away from 2025 (plus a few more)

The year is closing in on itself and I’m feeling reflective, and a little bit flat. I always forget about the strange in-between days that exist between Christmas and New Year.

There’s such a big build-up, and then suddenly it all dissipates before I’ve processed what even happened. The streets clear out and the only evidence of what just occurred are Christmas trees tucked behind windows and maybe some leftover ham in the fridge (this year no one brought it home, maybe that’s why I’m feeling this way).

It’s been a big year. One that I think a lot of people are ready to wrap up. I wanted to end it by writing down a few things I’ve picked up along the way. Like usual, this is mostly for me. But sometimes when you write things down plainly, or at the right time, they have a way of landing elsewhere too.

Christmas and New Year are such timestamps. You sit at the same table, eat similar food (perhaps the addition of an auntie’s experimental salad or the results of a new person in the kitchen), and hear familiar stories, sometimes word for word. And yet, you arrive slightly differently each year.

Even if you don’t notice it at first, it’s in the little things.
Who do you gravitate towards over dinner?
Which conversations still irritate you, and which ones no longer matter enough to?
Who are you texting under the table when Grandma throws out a wild statement?
How do you feel when someone asks you about work?

Something always shifts: your perspective, your patience, maybe just your expectations.

I think it’s worth paying attention to that. And occasionally, writing it down.

So, here’s a few things I learnt in 2025.

1. Health is everything

This year I started volunteering at RPA Hospital, a decision I was initially sceptical about. After a six-month onboarding process, three vaccinations, and a manual handling seminar (where I learnt how to safely lift a cardboard box), I wasn’t sure I had this level of commitment in me. But in September, I finally got my purple shirt and was assigned my weekly Thursday slot at the volunteer desk.

It was here that I met one of the women who now knows the ins and outs of my life, every date, every health scare, every fight with my mum, Sandra.

Every Thursday morning, we sit together at the concierge desk directing people around the hospital. We are as directionally challenged as each other, pointing left while saying right, chuckling as confused patients return ten seconds later having clocked the mismatch. Despite this, we make up for it with narrated walking tours through the hospital corridors.

It’s through these interactions, and the things I witness along the way that I’ve come to understand the importance of health. The lengths people will go to restore it. And for those whose health cannot be restored, the way they cherish every moment before it slips away.

I’ve witnessed how life pauses when someone you love is unwell. But I’ve also witnessed the gratitude people carry for those helping them get better or ensuring their comfort as they get worse.

Life is a lot more precious than I had previously understood. Maybe that sounds silly.

So, if something feels unnecessary; a skin check, a breast scan, a lingering migraine, please tend to it. It’s not just a personal chore; it’s as much for the people who love and need you.

Keep the people you love in check and show up for them when they need you.

2. If you’re going to put yourself out there, be prepared for the consequences

   (but you also get to choose the narrative that people believe)

This year I started this blog (or whatever you want to call it) which I have since considered deleting several times. In saying that, I also went to start it around the same number of times before I finally posted something.

At times, I feel silly talking about things I know little about. I’ve felt way too vulnerable after posting and then rereading the contents of my brain. I picture other people reading it and can barely get past the first paragraph.

It’s like handing in an assignment, knowing it’s not your best work and then visualising the teacher working their way through it, maybe even taking it to the staffroom for a laugh. Just yesterday I told my little brother that I’m ending this year cringing at myself. He replied, “Well yeah, a lot of the stuff you write and talk about, I just wouldn’t.”

I felt the immediate urge to ask him more questions in an attempt to figure out exactly what I needed to change. But we’d just wrapped up Christmas, and I was ready for bed. And honestly, I think that would’ve led to more uncomfortable introspection.

Putting yourself out there in any form comes with the likelihood of judgment and a high risk of failure. This is a tiny blog. I genuinely feel for people doing this on a large scale. It’s not the doing that’s exhausting; it’s the personal aftermath.

I’m scared of saying the wrong thing or revealing my lack of knowledge. But I would still rather talk about things that maybe some of us are quietly thinking and I’m happy to take one for the team if it leads to a good dinner table conversation. It’s also extremely satisfying to write about things I care about, and to watch them change.

It’s strange to me that thoughts can carry so much embarrassment or shame that we feel the need to protect them. At the most basic level, they’re just biological reactions to the world around us. How did they get so loaded?

Moving onto part two: if you’re going to do something a bit different, you have to own it.

Half-arsing anything is no good for anyone. People don’t know how to react. A good way to think about it is in the form of a birthday party. If you walk around saying “I don’t even want to do it,” half-commit to a nice outfit, and send invitations the day before, people will naturally be confused. But if you act excited, even if you’re dreading it, and put in the effort, people usually show up the same way.

As soon as you reveal your insecurities or go searching for reassurance, people tend to hear that version louder than anything positive you’ve said. Not always out of bad intent, it’s just human nature. Negative statements are sticky, and often more memorable than the little wins or reports of steady progress.

Part of the trick is disciplining yourself to stay positive and exude confidence. Save the doubts for your note’s app or the one friend that won’t tell anyone, or doesn’t listen. Otherwise, just keep going and show up how you want people to respond.

So, with that, I’ll keep writing into 2026. I might even do a course and sort out some of the structural and grammatical problems (I have never quite understood where commas, go. Are there strict rules or is it more personal choice? Would love some help with this one)

3. Commitment

   (also knowing when it’s doing more harm than good)

This isn’t something I’ve mastered yet. It’s more a recurring theme from this year that I want to take into 2026.

Commitment.

This one’s fresh, because I just quit a job after only three months. The “How’s your new job going, Mardi?” questions at Christmas didn’t feel great, but this one was justified. I swear.

I’m worried about the disintegration of commitment; to each other, to jobs, to goals, to hobbies. We’re constantly fed the idea that something better is always around the corner. That if we’re not trying everything, we’re behind or settling.

There will be someone who meets every need.
A job that feels good every day.
A hobby you fall in love with instantly.

But I’m starting to think this is a dangerous narrative and one that is frankly not true.

The things in my life that mean the most to me have almost all been built through time and commitment: relationships, work, interests. The ones I stayed with even when they didn’t feel good or hung onto despite tempting distractions.

It’s hard to know the difference between settling and committing, especially when you’re young. How do you know if this is as good as it gets at 23? How do you foresee and choose long-term growth over instant gratification?

I don’t have the answers. But gut feelings and values feel like a good place to start. Not everything exciting is good. Crazy.

Committing can be scarier than starting something new. I think there’s a middle ground, and I would like to find it next year.

4. Let people know when you admire what they’re doing

   (or when they cross your mind)

I think it’s important to tell people when you admire something they’re doing, when you’re interested in what they’re saying, or even just when they’ve crossed your mind. This feels especially true for people who aren’t in your regular contact list. The ones you notice from afar, without no expectation of interaction.

There are so many times I’ve drafted a message and then sat on it, worried it might come across as weird or go unanswered. But that’s almost never how it plays out. And if it does, does it really matter?

This year I came across a new local artist who I quickly became obsessed with. I saw her at the beach one day and wanted to say something but chickened out because she’s really cool and I was wearing my work uniform (which doesn’t look enough like a uniform to rule out extremely poor taste).

That night, lying in bed, I thought fuck it. I messaged her and told her how much my dad and I love her music. I had filmed a video of my dad poorly singing along and captioned it, soon realising you can’t send videos on Instagram to strangers. Lo and behold, she still replied!

Now she knows that two more people really like her work, enough to send a slightly unhinged but well-intentioned paragraph about it. Maybe she was having a bad day and needed to hear it. Maybe she screenshotted it and sent it to her mum. Maybe she gets messages like that all the time. Who knows.

I’m going to do it more.

Supporting friends, family, and peers is such a privilege. You get to witness them try, fail, try again, or move on. They’ve let you into that small journey. All you have to do is acknowledge it, not even the outcome, just the effort.

It’s also a nice way to reconnect with people you haven’t spoken to in a while, whether through shared interests, geography, or something completely random. There’s something deeply affirming about receiving a message from someone you didn’t expect to be thinking about you or had no need to reach out.

5. Make a point of, and dedicate effort to celebrating other people’s wins

Make a point of celebrating the people around you. Why wait for birthdays? There’s so much worth celebrating in between, and the more niche, the better. Job resignations. Breakups. Good dates. First ocean swims. Gym PBs.

Bringing people together to mark someone’s win is as good for the person being celebrated as it is for everyone else. It keeps you across what’s actually going on in each other peoples lives, rather than just the big headline moments. It’s also just a good reminder to not take things too seriously. Have a fucking laugh.

Nothing makes me happier than noticing how seriously people take each other’s joy, even when it’s small.

Life can be very wholesome if you let it be.

And with that cringey statement, I am done. Thanks for that 2025. Let’s see what sticks.

*Sorry, here’s a few more for anyone who likes extra reading and wants to try and figure out what these mean.

Be smart about who, and when you ask for advice.

You can’t read too much into silence. Sometimes it just needs to exist. Learn to enjoy it.

If you are confused by someone, just ask. If you can’t ask, that is probably your answer. Don’t waste your time.

The way you feel right before you see someone and right after you leave them says a lot.

A lot of maturity is discipline.

Just spend time with kind people. Full Stop.