One Month & Five Years Later

February's Essay

Every year, January feels a little longer—at this point, it’s basically a running joke. But this year? This year has felt like an endurance test. Globally, we’ve been hit with a relentless news cycle, and personally, I’ve felt a much heavier weight on my shoulders than I expected. If nothing else, the chaos has made it painfully clear just how important it is to protect my mental health. I like to think I’m pretty self-aware, but actually using the tools I’ve gathered over the years? Yeah, that’s been another story. Tuning out the noise and focusing on what’s in my control has felt nearly impossible—especially when I look at my to-do list and see that I’ve barely made a dent.

And I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. It seems like every conversation lately has had some variation of “I am so tired,” “This year is already too much,” or “How is it still January?” The weight of everything—global crises, personal struggles, the endless pressure to keep moving forward—feels heavier than usual. It’s like we all collectively started the year already running on fumes.

So, where do we go from here? How do we take care of ourselves when everything feels like too much? How do we find our footing when the ground keeps shifting? I don’t have perfect answers (wouldn’t that be nice?), but I do know that checking in with ourselves—really checking in—is a good place to start. So, that’s what I’ve been trying to do. Taking stock of what’s been weighing me down, figuring out what I actually have control over, and deciding how I want to move forward from here. Because, as much as it feels like this year has already taken a lot out of us, we still have eleven months ahead of us.

Carrying It, Feeling It

I walked into this year already unsettled. The results of the last election felt like a step backward—back to a leader who thrives on division, who refuses to accept any outcome that doesn’t favor him, and who bullies anything that challenges his worldview. Discourse matters. Opposing perspectives matter. Trying to erase them entirely? That’s dangerous. So that was already weighing on me when, less than a week into the new year, Los Angeles—and much of California—was literally on fire.

So many people lost everything. Not just their homes, but their businesses, their sense of security, the life they had built. Some businesses shuttered overnight, leaving employees jobless with no warning. And as if that wasn’t enough, we’re watching far-right movements gain traction around the world, rights and protections being stripped away, and a constant flood of alarming headlines. The sheer weight of it all makes it impossible to fully unplug—limiting my news intake has helped, but not knowing what’s happening isn’t an option either. It feels like a lose-lose situation.

But if there’s one thing this month has made clear, it’s that people are capable of extraordinary compassion. Here in LA, as the fires burned, people showed up. They organized donation drives, fed evacuees and first responders, and offered whatever support they could. Firefighters traveled here from countries that our own government has villainized, putting their lives on the line to help us.

The news rarely focuses on the good—we know that. Fear and catastrophe drive ratings. But there is good. And if we don’t take the time to acknowledge how people show up for each other, it’s too easy to lose sight of the fact that even in the worst of times, kindness still exists. Without seeing or hearing about that, it starts to feel like we’re all just on a sinking ship, surrounded by people who are only there to watch it go under. And when it feels like no one cares, it’s not hard to slip into the mindset of well, then why should I? But that’s exactly why it matters—to see it, to seek it, to be part of it, even in small ways.

Life’s Been Doing the Most

On top of the relentless news cycle, a big part of the heaviness that followed me into 2025 has been