the year of the snake: life lessons from 2025

It’s no secret that 2025 has been a challenging year.

Because of how tumultuous this year has been, it had me wondering why it was so difficult—not just for me, but for many people I know.

Then recently, I learned that 2025’s zodiac is the Year of the Snake: a year that welcomes transformation, renewal, and change.

The themes are very fitting because 2025 brought a lot of change to my life—and with it, a lot of life lessons. As exhausting as it was for these challenges to become lessons, I know what I’ve learned will carry over to the next year, and for the rest of my life.

Here’s to commemorating the most challenging year of my life. And, for the love of God, to stop learning things the hard way in 2026.

Be Insane

I learned this lesson in the funniest/most unserious way.

When season 4 of Single’s Inferno aired in January, Theo Jang became my favorite contestant. I was drawn to his confidence and charm, as many others were—and these aspect were so inspiring, that I actually named Tennis Book’s main character after Theo.

That’s how I became a fan, but I never imagined that we’d meet in person. It wasn’t even a thought in my mind. My friends would constantly joke (manifest) about our meeting, and I’d laugh and brush it off.

Then I actually did meet him.

how it started

how it went

The story of meeting him could be its own newsletter, so I’ll spare you (most) of the details. But to make a long story short, I got the opportunity to attend his fan meet in Manila while he was promoting his movie Finding Santos.

In a strange way, that meeting taught me that it’s okay to dream big. Nothing is out of reach—even if it’s a “long shot”. You can manifest the seemingly impossible.

Because if you’re crazy enough, then what you’re manifesting just might come true.

So, I’m putting it out in the universe now. Six-figure book deals! Books sold at auction! Financial stability! As long as I believe it can happen, then one day, it will come.

wise words from a friend

Growth Only Comes With Discomfort

This lesson applies to many aspects of my year, but specifically to my language-learning journey. I came back to the Philippines recently and have been developing my fluency in Tagalog again. Because I didn’t learn Tagalog growing up, my relationship with the language has been a complicated one—one that includes a lot of shame that I’m still trying to heal from.

Learning a new language feels like you’re starting at zero. I have the speaking skills of a child, I constantly make mistakes, and I am frequently unable to express myself correctly. Early in my relearning process, I was incredibly shy speaking in Tagalog. I was afraid of either making a mistake or sounding dumb.

However, the only way to get better—especially with learning a new language—is through practice.

With all my insecurities, practicing the language is something that definitely invites discomfort. But with practice, time, and understanding from my wonderful family and friends, I slowly started to grow comfortable with speaking again.

This isn’t to say that the discomfort suddenly disappeared. I’m still hesitant to speak unless absolutely necessary, because I still make a lot of mistakes. I’m nowhere near where I’d like to be in my fluency, but I remind myself to keep pushing and speak Tagalog at every opportunity. Pushing through discomfort is the only way I can improve and grow.

In life, the same principle applies.

When you’re in your comfort zone, you cannot grow into the version of yourself that you need to be. Because when you’re comfortable, what will be pushing you to change?

the exit sign at robinsons mills, pampanga

If It Brings You Joy, Then That’s Enough

A seemingly obvious lesson, but one that’s easy to forget.

Sometimes, I would find myself questioning the things that made me happy—in the sense that even though the joy they brought was undeniable, I would feel silly talking about them.

I would become my own worst enemy for enjoying the things that I liked, simply because I considered it “cringe”. In my head, I was getting too invested in something that didn’t “matter” and that I was getting too deep into obsession.

Then a friend helped me realize: joy is so hard to come by, especially with a year as challenging as this. So, why would I deprive yourself of the things that make me happy?

A shorter reflection for this lesson, but here are some of the things that brought me joy this year:

some things that brought me joy this year: being with family, cafe dates with friends, tasty mochas, writing in beautiful places, yap sessions on voice chat, and playing tennis

Take Risks

Taking risks is a prominent theme in Tennis Book. Marin, my narrator, is always consistently choosing the safe choice. But as the story progresses and she embarks on her journey, Marin learns to step outside her comfort zone and take risks.

There’s an amusing irony to this: I’m writing a book where the moral of the story is to take risks, but it was a lesson I myself needed to learn.

2025 pushed me outside of my comfort zone—multiple times, too many times. It was always easier to choose the safe choice, because I either didn’t want to be uncomfortable or I was afraid of rejection. But while choosing the safe choice protected me, it also left me in a constant state of “what if”.

There’s a lesson I learned many years ago, one that I somehow forget to implement:

In life, you always regret the things you didn’t do, more than the things you did do.

I found that this year, every time I chose the safe choice, I kept kicking myself for not going the other way. Because even if the risk eventually resulted in failure, at least I wouldn’t be left pondering.

Let Go

The Year of the Snake introduces the themes of transformation and renewal. Snakes sheds their skin once they grow out of it—so, like the snake, you’re essentially shedding what you’ve grown out of.

I’ve self-titled 2025 to be my Year of Loss, because I have lost so, so much this year. It was excruciatingly painful to keep losing—even when I was already down, even when I thought that I couldn’t possibly lose any more.

However, my losses pushed me to think of what I really want in my life. Even if it’s difficult—and at times, excruciating—it’s important to let go of what no longer serves me.

It’s not enough for things to be okay for the moment. I need to want better for myself, all the time. Because not only is it what I deserve, but I only have one shot at this life. Why would I spend it not giving myself the best?

Everything Happens For A Reason

“Everything happens for a reason” is a mantra I always live by, not just this year.

The phrase has carried me through my life, and it’s one that’s so steadily reinforced.

It’s been proven to me in sillier moments. If I had never revived my interest in tennis last year, then I wouldn’t have written Tennis Book. Or, if I hadn’t decided to extend my stay in Manila, then I wouldn’t have met my celebrity crush.

Then, it’s carried me through the challenging moments. If I never turned to writing to process my grief, then my first book would never have been born. If I never got laid off, then I wouldn’t have had the time to write my second and third book, travel Europe with my family, or come home to the Philippines.

Given everything that’s knocked me down this year, I should have less reason to hold onto this phrase. However, there have been countless times this year that have reminded me of that mantra—and those moments always came at times when I needed them the most.

If I didn’t hold onto the belief that all of these challenges, all of my losses, were for a reason, then I would lose my purpose.

So, because I need to hold on—and because it’s been proven time and time again—I’m choosing to believe that everything I’ve lost is not without reason.

It’s simply making space for better things to come.