2026—Let's Go
My heart is overflowing with love.
If this is a precursor for what the rest of 2026 will be, then I can confidently say: bring it on.
To all the people who poured into me in 2025—thank you.
To those who read my book (or this blog), hyped me up on social media, quieted my anxious thoughts, reminded me of my goodness, and made me belly laugh (and pee a little)—I see you. I feel you. I love you.
I did a lot of firsts this year.
I bought land.
I learned Spanish.
I published my book.
I learned how to ride a moto.
And most recently I let go of fear (still a work in progress!)
I’m proud of myself for these things, sure. But the thing I’m most proud of is this: I’ve created a life I’m wholeheartedly excited to wake up to every single day. And that I’m stable enough now—grounded enough—to share that life with people who carry the same adventurous spirit.
The investment I’ve made in myself is paying dividends, daily. And now I get to share that joy.
That truth really landed for me recently when my sweet, sweet cousin came to visit—her trip overlapping with a visit from a good friend and former roommate. I’ll admit, I was a little nervous beforehand. How would their energies mix? Would I get enough alone time to recharge? But it went better than I could have imagined. These people were my family—one by blood, one chosen—but both nourishing in the same way.
For New Year’s Eve, we moseyed over to a fancy hostel just a ten-minute walk from my place. Entry was free before 8, so we slid in right under the wire. When we arrived, there weren’t many people yet, and the ones who were there were clustered around the bar, waiting their turn to imbibe. I leaned over to my cousin—who also doesn’t drink anymore—and whispered, “Honestly, I want a drink right now. I feel awkward. We just have to push through the first fifteen minutes.” She nodded, admitting she felt the same way.
The awkward fifteen minutes turned into an awkward hour. The DJ wasn’t exactly lively—lounge music that was fine for a head bop but did very little for my decaffeinated, sober body. I considered rounding up the crew and heading to the beach for a mellow bonfire. But then the DJs switched, and disco house jams began seeping out into the night.
My cousin and I headed straight for the empty dance floor and started shaking what our mamas gave us. It didn’t take long for our joy to spill outward, drawing others in. A reminder that when you’re aligned with joy you give others permission to joyn in on the fun too.
We danced our butts off—my cousin, my good friend, and my boyfriend—taking turns doing drink runs. Beers for the boys. Magic juice for us: soda water with an inch of fresh lime juice at the bottom.
After the countdown, a sweet New Year’s kiss, and a group hug, we walked to the beach to let go of 2025 in the most Nica way possible. Days earlier, we’d built a Viejo—a life-sized doll stuffed with dead leaves and dressed in secondhand clothes. We wrote down what we wanted to release in 2026, tucked the notes inside him along with fireworks, and set him on fire.
One of the big things I wanted to let go of was fear. Fear that sometimes paralyzed me around big decisions about my house. Fear of surfing in unfamiliar conditions. Fear of speaking my truth. Fear of being seen. Fear of failure. It was a tall order, but I was ready.
A stray dog—who had taken turns getting cuddled by us at the bar and then followed us to the beach—got spooked by the fireworks and ran off.
By then, I was exhausted. Normally in bed by 9, it was 2 a.m. My body was begging for sleep.
The past week has been a whirlwind. Guests overlapping—something I once worried about—ended up being the most unexpected gift. The perfect way to close out the year and welcome the new one.
After my cousin left, she sent me a message:
“I’m so proud of you for not giving up on building your dream life.”
She gets it. She felt it.
I’m proud too. Proud that I pushed through the awkwardness, the loneliness, and the confusion of building this dream life. And now get to reap the rewards.
Yesterday, I went surfing with a few friends. A big wave rolled in, and I was in the perfect position. As I started to paddle, it lifted me up and I let out a joyous scream. I popped up at just the right moment and rode it like my life depended on it. I screamed again when the wave behind me caught up, causing an alarming elevation shift. After a few more seconds, I bailed, grinning ear to ear.
My boyfriend gave me a shaka and a nod of approval. My friends cheered me on. Ahhh, the joy of being witnessed and celebrated by those you love.
Later, still floating in the water, riding the high of that wave, a woman I didn’t know paddled over. “When you screamed, I didn’t expect you to pop up,” she said. “But you did. It looked great.”
Every day, I can’t believe this is my life.
My sweet, sweet life.
2026—let’s go.