Let me be honest with you from the jump: 2025 was not gentle with me. It was the kind of year that strips things away—comfort, assumptions, even people—until you’re standing there looking at yourself with nothing left to hide behind. And you know what? I’m actually grateful for it. Not in that toxic-positivity, “everything happens for a reason” kind of way. More like: I survived it, and now I know things I didn’t know before. Things about sex. About love. About myself.
I made a whole video about this (which you can watch below), but I also wanted to sit down and write through these reflections because some lessons deserve a little more space. So let’s get into it.
Boundaries Are Not Mean—They’re Necessary
This was probably the biggest theme of my entire year. I spent so much energy trying to be easy-going, flexible, accommodating—especially in dating. And what did that get me? Exhausted. Resentful. And honestly, disconnected from what I actually wanted.
Here’s what I learned: a boundary is not a wall you build to keep people out. It’s a line you draw so you can let people in safely. There’s a massive difference. When I started naming my needs out loud—even when it felt uncomfortable, even when I was scared the other person would leave—things shifted. Some people did leave. And the ones who stayed? They showed up differently. Better. More intentionally.
If setting a boundary costs you a relationship, that relationship was already costing you something bigger.
Your Desire Deserves to Be Taken Seriously
This one hit me personally and professionally. As someone studying sex education, I talk a lot about desire—what it is, how it works, why it matters. But 2025 forced me to confront the ways I was minimizing my own desire. Not just sexual desire (though yes, that too), but desire in the broader sense. What I wanted from a partner. What I wanted from intimacy. What I wanted from my life.
We live in a culture that teaches people—especially women—to shrink their wants down to whatever fits neatly into someone else’s comfort zone. I was doing that without even realizing it. Softening my preferences. Pretending I was fine with things that didn’t feel good. Telling myself I was being “too much” for wanting depth, honesty, and real connection.
Your desire is not a burden. It’s information. It’s pointing you toward something—listen to it.
Communication Is a Practice, Not a Personality Trait
I used to think I was “good at communicating.” And then 2025 humbled me. Being articulate is not the same as being vulnerable. I could talk about feelings all day long without ever actually letting someone see mine. Real communication in relationships—the kind that builds actual intimacy—requires you to say the thing that scares you. The thing you haven’t rehearsed. The thing that might not come out perfectly.
I’m learning that communication is something you practice every single day. It’s not a skill you master once and then coast on. It takes constant recalibration, especially when you’re with someone new and navigating different attachment styles, love languages, and histories.
Emotional Safety Is Non-Negotiable
This is a hill I will now die on. Emotional safety is the foundation of everything—good sex, real intimacy, honest conversation, lasting connection. Without it, you’re just performing. You’re going through the motions of closeness without actually being close.
I learned this year that I had been tolerating situations where I didn’t feel emotionally safe and calling it “going with the flow.” No. Going with the flow is trying a new restaurant. Ignoring the knot in your stomach when someone dismisses your feelings is something else entirely. In 2026, I’m paying attention to that knot. It’s been right every single time.
Unlearning Is Just as Important as Learning
So much of my growth this year wasn’t about adding new knowledge. It was about stripping away old stories. Stories like: love should be hard. Or: if someone is inconsistent, you just need to be more patient. Or my personal favorite: you can love someone into treating you well.
You can’t. I tried. It doesn’t work.
Unlearning is uncomfortable because those old beliefs feel like you. They feel like identity. But they’re not. They’re just patterns you picked up along the way, and you are fully allowed to put them down.
What I Know I Deserve
I’m not saying this from arrogance. I’m saying it from clarity—the kind you only get after a year that shakes everything loose. I deserve honesty, even when it’s awkward. I deserve someone who is curious about my inner world and not just my availability. I deserve sex that is connected, present, and mutual. I deserve to take up space in my own relationships.
And so do you. Whatever your version of that looks like—you deserve it. Not someday. Not once you’ve earned it. Right now.
2025 was hard. I’m not going to romanticize it. But I’m walking into this new year with more self-trust, sharper instincts, and a deeper understanding of what I want from love and intimacy. I’m not carrying these lessons as baggage—I’m carrying them as tools.
If any of this resonated with you, I go even deeper in the video. I’d love for you to watch it, and if you feel moved, leave a comment telling me what you’re carrying into 2026. Let’s have that conversation together.