2025 — A Year Written in Four Quarters

First Quarter (Jan–Mar): Loss and Silence

The first quarter of 2025 was below average for me, emotionally heavy and painfully quiet. I lost my grandmother, the woman I lived with for 22 years. She wasn’t just family; she was home. Every moment with her was something I cherished deeply, and her absence left a silence I didn’t know how to fill.

During those months, I lost hope for happiness. Days passed with tears, nights felt longer, and life seemed paused. I was present, yet not living, just surviving.

Second Quarter (Apr–Jun): Slow Healing, Small Wins

The second quarter started the same way, heavy heart, tired soul. But slowly, almost without realizing it, I began to stand again. I returned to my routine. I worked on our initiative, managed university responsibilities, and kept struggling to find clients for the agency.

Nothing came easily, but toward the end of this quarter, something small yet meaningful happened. We got a client, someone who had worked with us before. It was a small project, but for me, it was a reminder: I can still do this. Hope didn’t rush back, it walked in quietly.

Third Quarter (Jul–Sep): Unexpected Pain

The third quarter was again below average. The month of my birthday turned out to be the worst birthday I’ve had in all my years. Family relationships were already fragile, and on my birthday, a major conflict with relatives broke out, something I never expected.

Instead of celebration, there was disappointment. Instead of joy, there was emotional distance. That period taught me that not every pain comes with a warning.

Fourth Quarter (Oct–Dec): Holding On Without Giving Up

In the final quarter, I was still struggling to find clients. There were moments when I genuinely wanted to help people who were in need of money, but I couldn’t, because we weren’t getting work. On top of that, my university’s final-semester workload demanded most of my energy, and I couldn’t give my agency everything I wanted to.

Still, I stayed. I didn’t quit. I didn’t shut down my dreams.

And Then… Hope.

But—but—but—I did not lose hope in 2025.

This year tested me in ways I never imagined. It broke me quietly, rebuilt me slowly, and taught me patience I never asked for. If 2025 was about endurance, then 2026 is about rising.

To everyone reading this:

If 2025 exhausted you, hurt you, or delayed your dreams, remember this, you survived it. That alone makes you stronger than you think.

2026 is waiting. It’s your year to try again. Your year to heal deeper, dream bigger, and move with courage. You can still build what you once paused. You can still become who you planned to be.

As for me,

I will rise again in 2026, with stronger arms, a wiser heart, and unshaken faith.

And I believe, you will too.

From behalf of Voice Against GBV I and my team wish you a very happy new year 🎊. let's rise stronger together.