2025: The Art of Beginning Again

2025.
A year that turned me inside out, upside down, swallowed me whole, and spat me back out again. My heart has been broken into a million pieces — by people, by situations, by realities I never saw coming. As this year comes to an end, I’m honestly surprised it’s still beating.

I am someone who believes in silver linings. Someone who believes in big dreams. An eternal romantic. And what I regret most about these past eleven months is that I’ve lost my ability to trust that part of myself. I notice it now — how I hide from the things I would normally run towards with open arms.

I never thought I would once again be in a place where I had to rebuild an entire life. To make the effort to meet new people. To create a home. To find a new favourite bakery and work out where to buy Mac’s dog food. Looking back at the last six months, I did all of this remarkably well — in record time, even. On paper.

The reality is that when I crawl into bed at night and turn off the light, I still wish that I’ll wake up and everything will be back the way it used to be. Not because it was better. Not because I was happy. But because I long, deeply, for familiarity.

The one little friend who does not leave my side 

Christmas has always been a hard time of year for me — and I know it is for my sister too. It’s the time when you’re confronted with the fact that nobody is waiting for you to come home. No open invitation. No familiar place to land. Mixed with old grief and heavy memories, this time of year sneaks up on me every time. After months of genuine happiness, it weighs me down. Everything I’ve worked so hard to hold together this year suddenly feels like it’s being pulled apart.

And yet — I still believe in silver linings. I truly believe that no matter the situation, we always have a choice in how we respond. I’ve learned so much this year. I’ve grown. My trust may have been shattered, but alongside that loss came a powerful truth: when I reached out to my closest friends, they were there — no questions asked. Some of those moments are now etched into my heart and soul forever.

Katie was the first person I called when I had nowhere to go. She opened her home without hesitation. Lee and Katie took care of me — listening to my unhinged thoughts without judgement, wrapping me in endless hugs and home-cooked meals. You are two of the kindest people I am lucky enough to have in my life.

Jantiene is one of my dearest friends, and our friendship has stretched and compressed over the years like an accordion, depending on the battles we were fighting. When I left a message on her answering machine saying I needed help with accommodation, she had a plan within two hours. We spent a week together — dancing in the living room, talking late into the night, sharing heartache. She truly sees me. There is no hiding with her. She asks the difficult questions and listens better than almost anyone I know. She is one of the most beautiful, bright souls in my life — and I wish she could see herself the way I see her.

Then there was Si — one of Katie and Lee’s closest friends. Si met a version of me that was completely unedited and deeply raw. I don’t think anyone else has ever seen me that low. After only a handful of shared adventures, I called him because I couldn’t stand the idea of being alone after what I believed to be my truth for the last five years collapsed like a house of cards. Simon drove three hours to be there. He made me laugh with his dry humour and sometimes awkward, honest way of communicating. He took me into the mountains, on adventures that helped me forget the pain. I’m not sure he knows what his kindness restored in me.

doing the Aguille du Bioassay with Si in one push from Contamines

Camille and I coming 2nd female team and top 10 overall in the Rosablanche marathon

There were also the phone calls from afar. Erin, in Scotland, helped me make a plan — and when I executed it all in a week, she laughed and said, “This was meant to be a three-month plan, woman. You’re allowed to fall apart first.” We’re both people who avoid phone calls, yet she answered every single one until she felt I no longer needed them. Erin is the kind of friend everyone deserves — calm, grounded, with a heart full of gold. Thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Suus, my childhood friend from Holland, who knows me better than I know myself, patiently took every emotional phone call. She talked me through every possible scenario and always brought me back to earth with the same sentence: “Your intuition was right. You are the one who is okay.”

As my life began to unfold in Chamonix, I met incredible new people. Kiley, with whom I fulfilled one of my dreams — climbing Mont Blanc in one push from the valley floor in sixteen hours. No planning. Just trust and instant connection. We went out on a limb, and it became one of the most special days of my life. Kiley made me laugh again, talk for hours, sit in silence, and simply exist in the mountains. A friendship born through shared passion — one I hold very dear.

Kiley and I, bonded by Mont Blanc: Friends for life! 

Then there was Jennie. An experienced climber with an open heart for adventure. What started as an adventure partnership quickly became something deeper. Through her openness, kindness, and authenticity, I found myself welcomed into experiences I once only dreamed of. I met Dina, grew closer to Christina, and learned from Jennie’s quiet wisdom. Though many years younger, she carries a strength and honesty I deeply admire — especially her willingness to face conflict head-on.

Dina, Jennie and me doing the Rimpfishorn from Zermatt side on one push

There are also so many people who may not realise how much they’ve lit up my life simply by being kind. Iain — fellow skimo athlete and absolute mountain machine. Linda, my fellow Dutchie and one of the loveliest souls I know. Charlotte, the vet I work with weekly, whose energy and eagerness to learn makes me feel so appreciated. Ellis, my colleague and mentor, who has helped me navigate work pressure with such grace. Sam, who sends me podcasts, flew over from the UK to race the Fully Vertical, and climbed a 4000m peak in one weekend without complaint. Lucy, who spent two weeks in my tiny apartment — and whom I somehow convinced to run a double vertical. Camille, who last-minute asked me to run the Rosablanche marathon and brought out one of my best trail performances yet. My Dutch skimo teammates — Jens, Allard, Paul — for their kindness when things were rough. Emilio, my coach, as we head into our third year together — PRs, podiums, and unwavering support. A true class act. Christophe, the outsider, who has been able to make me sit next to a lake with him just talking, not doing anything, other than just being. Christophe has been that person who lets you have your moments and is still there when you actually expected no reply with a dry
"I am not sure how to respond to this.."

And lastly, my beautiful sister. Always by my side. As we grow older, I feel us understanding each other more deeply. We experience our family pain in the same way, and that shared understanding is something I could never do without. Once again, we face something difficult together — and once again, we will get through it. It will be okay.

This year felt like my life became a chaotic construction site. And I rebuilt — fast. Too fast, perhaps. The problem with reaching the end of the year is that everything slows down. For the past four weeks, there’s been nowhere left to hide.

I am tired. So very tired. But I am also quietly proud. Proud of what I’ve built. Even if the foundations are still fragile. Even if I need a break. I will keep constructing. Because my true silver lining this year has been finding my happy place here in the mountains.

my happy place

Here is to everyone who made me smile this year. Lets bring on 2026

"Sometimes when things are falling apart, they might be actually falling into place"