A blog by Pepetoe.

There was a time when I thought ending a year meant understanding it. Wrapping it up neatly. Naming the lessons. Drawing conclusions that made the pain feel justified. I thought clarity was the reward for surviving something difficult, that if I endured enough, I’d eventually be handed answers.

This year didn’t give me that.

As it comes to an end, there are still loose threads. Still questions I don’t know how to phrase, let alone ask, or even resolve. Still moments I replay without landing anywhere certain. And for the first time, I’m trying not to rush myself into fixing that.

I’m ending this year without answers, and I’m learning how to let that be okay.

For a long time, uncertainty felt like failure to me. Like I hadn’t reflected hard enough, healed deeply enough, or grown properly if I couldn’t explain everything away. I thought not knowing meant I was behind. On top of that, this meant letting go of control. And for so long, I abhorred the idea of some lack of control, in all aspects of life. With this year throwing me things in a multitude of canon events, I had to let go of control and uncertainty. I had to learn, the hard way, that I cannot, and will never be able to, control everything around me. What people think about me, what people say about me, and what people do around me. The only thing I could control? How I react to things. What I say to people. What I can do. Not in the way to make people like me, or to change their opinions. But in the way that I can simply choose what to do, how to act, and what to say, and when to say it. That took a lot of strength and time to learn, but it feels like I’m on the right path now to stay earnest and true to myself.

Letting go of this idea to control everything has been tough. And it gets harder when it’s about you. Rumours, gossip… it’s hard to let go of the reigns when everything that’s being said is about you. And you can’t control what the rumours are, nor what people are going to believe. You have to sit with it, you have to let it pass. You have to accept it. People will say things or do things that you have no control over, and you have to let them. Whether it’s to hurt you or not, whether it’s about you or not, people will talk, because people love to talk.

But here’s the other thing, not everything is about you. You may feel like everyone’s talking about your mistakes or mishaps, but I can assure you they are not. It’s easy to think I’m lying when I say this, when there’s that one person with that negative voice that is so loud you can’t hear the quiet around it. People are too wrapped up in their own lives to care, most of the time. So, sit with it, and let the questions be unanswered. Let the uncertainty wrap around you. Then, it’s up to you to write the rest of your story, not them.

This year taught me that some experiences don’t offer clarity on demand. Some seasons are too close, too raw, too unfinished to be understood while you’re still standing in them. There are things I don’t yet understand about myself. Choices I still don’t fully trust. Endings that don’t feel clean or complete. And instead of forcing meaning where there isn’t any yet, I’m allowing myself to sit in the uncertainty. That doesn’t mean I’m avoiding reflection. It means I’m respecting timing.

Not everything needs to be resolved before the calendar turns. Not every feeling needs a conclusion. Not every chapter needs a moral. Some things just need space. I’m learning that it’s okay to carry questions into a new year. It doesn’t mean you’re dragging the past with you. It means you’re being honest about where you are. You can still yearn for these questions to be answered, and you can try with all your might to find them, but accepting that you may never learn the answers is what will help you move forward, and stop living in the past.

There’s a quiet maturity in admitting you don’t know yet. In resisting the urge to package your year into something palatable. In allowing growth to continue unfolding instead of demanding it hurry up. Ending the year without answers feels uncomfortable. It feels unfinished. But it also feels real.

I’m trusting that clarity will come later, not because I chase it, but because I give myself room to live in the meantime. For now, I’m closing this year gently. Not with certainty, but with honesty. And that feels like enough.

Xo Pepetoe