I’ve been lost in thought these past few days, watching the year wind down. The whole UFO and orb chatter that everyone seems obsessed with has become repetitive and uninspiring. It’s like people are trying to find meaning in all the wrong places, and maybe that’s a reflection of something deeper about humanity. But my focus lately has been less on the cosmos and more on something far closer—my life. My year. And what the hell I’m going to make of 2025.
Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve, and like billions of people across the world, I’m sitting here promising myself that next year will be different. Healthier. Happier. And unlike the promises I’ve made in the past, I want this one to stick. But let’s be real: I’ve been here before, just like so many others. Full of conviction, ready to take on the world, only to fuck it all up within the first week of January.
I think I’ve learned something about that, though—something that’s taken me 38 years and countless mistakes to understand. No matter how prepared you think you are, life has a funny way of finding your blind spot. It’s like it waits for the moment you’re finally standing tall just to knock you flat on your ass. And for me, that knock has almost always come in the form of alcohol.
I started drinking at 16, and now, at 38, it’s a shadow I still can’t seem to shake. Even when I manage to quit for months at a time, it’s not the alcohol I miss. It’s the chaos. That’s the part I can’t seem to let go of. Life gets so painfully dull without it, like there’s a void where all the drama and unpredictability used to be. And when you’ve spent most of your life riding the waves of chaos, calm can feel suffocating.
Anthony and I have been navigating this together. We met through drinking all those years ago, and it became the foundation of everything—our fun, our fights, our intimacy. Now we’re figuring out how to just be with each other, without the blur of booze. It’s been a learning curve, but we love each other deeply. Love isn’t the issue. It’s the stress, the baggage, the years of patterns we’re trying to break. I know we’ll get there. I know someday, the parts of our relationship that feel strained—like our sex life—will catch up to the love we share.
This journaling feels good. Like a reset button. I’m starting to see a path forward, one that’s healthier, more grounded, and maybe even adventurous. I’ve been thinking about picking up hiking, taking the dogs out to explore the trails around here. There’s something about getting out into nature, breathing in the stillness, that I think could be healing.
I’ve also been reflecting on the power of thought. I truly believe that the energy we put out into the world comes back to us. Positive thoughts, negative thoughts—they’re like magnets for the experiences we create. And if I want 2025 to be better, I need to shift my energy. I can work on being kinder, radiating love more freely, and lifting my vibration through healthy, constructive habits.
This year is going to be a pivot point. I can feel it. My music will reach more ears. My books will find their way into more homes. My art will hang on walls across the world. And alongside all of that, Anthony and I will get into the best shape of our lives—not just physically, but mentally. We’ll build a foundation of security and happiness that doesn’t crumble under the weight of stress or old habits.
It won’t be perfect, and I don’t expect it to be. But it’ll be honest. It’ll be real. And that’s all I can ask for. To anyone out there struggling like I have—whether it’s with addiction, chaos, or the weight of your own thoughts—know that you’re not alone. I’ve been there. I am there. And together, we can figure out how to rise.
Here’s to 2025: a year of clarity, growth, and finding joy in the simplicity of living.