Soooo between you and me, I’d log 2025 as one of the hardest years of my life.

Not the worst (that honor still belongs to 2012, which I refuse to revisit 😅), but definitely toward the lower end of the “Oh gosh…this has been slightly sucky” scale.

I honestly thought my postpartum depression was gone last year—I wanted it to be over so badly—but it still had its fangs in me.

“Like, seriously? Two years of this? Plus an exhausting pregnancy? I feel like I’m losing years of my life…”

I couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes.

I’d stare at works-in-progress and cry, wondering why it was so hard to add words.

Mr. G and I weren’t getting along, we had no childcare, and I kept thinking I could do it all—be a full-time mommy and author—if I just worked harder.

But I was drained. Most nights I curled up in the fetal position hoping to wake up as someone else.

I spent the first half of this year in denial until the clouds of depression finally gave way, clearing the path for me to step out of the fog in June.

And by “fog,” I mean… I literally hadn’t adulted for months. One day I looked around and thought, Oh. I should probably try to get my life together…what have I even been doing?

From that moment, I made some hard decisions and accepted that things had to change—most importantly, me.

And I committed to three mantras:

1️⃣ I’m not a victim.
2️⃣ I’ve been through worse.
3️⃣ I can be better from here on out—in every part of my life.

I knew that change is hard as hell, but there was no going back.

Childcare came first. Baby G had a wonderful young woman help us over the summer by coming over Monday through Friday for mornings and afternoons.

Since this lovely woman had to return to college in the fall, I made use of every second by writing my ass off and made sure to say, “We appreciate you so much” every day.

I faced manuscripts and stories that had been sitting for years—books I’d longed to publish long ago.

Around that same time, I also threw myself into Whimstery, my audiobook and podcast platform.

I kept wondering and worrying if it was worth it—then I opened a royalty statement from Audible: $0.72.

Okay, yes. It’s worth it—and it means something to me.

It’s been in progress for years, and it’s come too far to give up now.

I remembered that I’m an author—and authors publish books.

So I published a lot of books this year and made sure I loved every single one. ❤️

Not gonna lie—I still cried most days. I still asked, “What’s this all for?”

But I had that little printout of my three reminders, and whenever I hit a wall, I pulled it out.

The dark moments never lasted longer than ten minutes.

And by the time my 37th birthday rolled around, I was days away from publishing book #9 of the year—Take Care, Taylor.

I still have a few more releases to go before December 31, and this time next year, when I hit 38, I want to be able to say I gave it my all—that I wrote, published, and launched Whimstery the best way I could.

.

If 2025 taught me anything, it’s that showing up imperfectly still counts.

Not sure what compelled me to wake up and write this, but I think I needed to.

I’ll see you later this week with Take Care, Audrey updates and notes on upcoming releases. 💫

F.L.Y.

(Effin Love You)
Whit

P.S. If you’ve missed any of this year’s books, here’s the full list.

P.P.S. If you want to receive my newsletters at first send, be sure to sign up for The F.L.Y. List.