01/01/2026
Not everyone had a merry Christmas.
Not everyone is welcoming the new year with joy.
Some of us are ending it barely standing.
I’m closing this year with a heart so heavy it feels like it might give up—yet somehow, still trying to be thankful.
This has been the hardest year of my 30 years of existence. Calling it “hard” feels unfair to the depth of the pain it brought.
Depression that swallowed my days.
Anxiety and panic that stole my breath.
Endless overthinking. Fear that never sleeps.
And the constant hospital visits and admissions for Zee—each one draining every bit of strength I had left.
It was one battle after another, no pause, no relief, no space to breathe.
I lost count of how many times I had to beg, to ask, to lower myself—just to survive one more day.
I lost count of the nights I cried myself to sleep, whispering prayers through tears, wishing my life would quietly end—wishing I could disappear so I wouldn’t feel like a burden to anyone anymore.
Every single day carried fear.
Fear of the next phone call.
Fear of the next sickness.
Fear of the next thing that would finally break me.
And yet… in the middle of all this pain, I am still grateful.
Grateful to those who checked in.
To those who remembered me when I felt invisible.
To those who stayed, who cared, who didn’t give up on me even when I had nothing left to give.
You may never fully know this, but your presence—your messages, your concern—kept me alive in ways words cannot explain.
Lord, if You can hear me, please… let the table turn next year.
I am beyond tired.
I am empty.
I have nothing left—except this fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, things will change.
PADAYUN TA
We'll be back soon
