Goodbye 2025, Hello 2026: The Year I Remembered I’m Unbreakable

Well, here we are.
Goodbye, 2025. Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

2025 was the year of the snake, and damn, did it shed some skins. It marked the end of a nine-year cycle, so if you felt like the universe ran you through a spiritual car wash on “extreme,” you’re not alone.

Now we roll into year one—the year of the horse. Wild transformation. Galloping forward. Never looking back.

I’m only going to say this once, and then we move the hell on: 2025 was, hands down, one of the most hellacious years of my life.

Let’s run the highlight reel:

• 😳 My mom’s funeral in January. Grieving her, and all the tangled layers of our life together, brought up things I didn’t even know were still breathing in the dark.

• 😳 I went through the biggest spiritual awakening of my life as a channel—and I do NOT use that phrase lightly.

• 😳 Old trauma decided it was time for a comeback tour. Things I thought I’d long since handled just waltzed right up and threw themselves on the kitchen table.

• 😳 The biggest imbecile ever born landed himself a seat he never belonged in. Don’t get me started. Or do. I’m always game.

• 😘 Jack and my marriage reached depths I didn’t even know were possible. Turns out being forged in the fire together will do that.

• 😳 I found out who I really am, and what that actually means. Spoiler: it’s not for the faint of heart.

• 😳 One of my children cut me out of his life over things that aren’t true. There’s no human description for that kind of heartache.

• 😳 My chronic pain hit new levels. Fascia work became my full-time job, and all my old traumas surfaced for their own reunion tour.

• 😳 Today, on the first day of the year, I’m heading right back to my body worker, ready for another round of fascia digging. And let me just say—it hurts like a motherfucker. There’s pain, and then there’s “whoever invented this needs to come collect their punishment” pain.

• 😳 My biological father died. I never met him. He lived about five miles from me for twenty years but never wanted to meet. When he died, it wasn’t just painful—it was a slap across the face I still can’t describe.

• 😳 My estranged brother reached new Olympic heights of estrangement after our mom died.

• 😳 A doctor put me on the wrong medication—and I spent three months with my hormones wrecked, my body out of whack, feeling like I was being destroyed from the inside out. Yes, the wrong prescription. If you want a list of “what not to do,” just ask.

• 😳 Went through menopause. Whoever designed that shit needs a stern talking-to.

• 😳 Quit my weight-loss shot because it made me feel flat like a cardboard cutout. Gained back the weight, but at least I can feel things again.

• 😳 Lost three deep female friendships—not because of fighting, not because of drama—honestly, I have no fucking idea why.

So yeah. Am I glad to see 2025 gone? You have no idea.

But here’s the wild part: I made it.

Through every explosion, every heartbreak, every plot twist, I found my true voice. I remembered who I am. I stood in the middle of the minefield while everything went off around me, and realized:

I’m not breakable.
I’m a goddamn queen.

And this year, I’m not softening it for anyone.

If you thought you knew me, buckle up. I’m about to shock the world.

And for my fellow Leos out there—just wait. The astrology this year is serving up perks you don’t want to miss.

2025 was the year I remembered who I am.
2026 is the year I live it.
Loud. Unfiltered. Unstoppable.

And to every single one of you who clawed your way through last year—well done.

This is the year we transform for real—the year we wake up and choose our own damn lives.

Happy New Year, wild ones.

Mama Tiff
This is the Queen’s Path.