Returning Gently: A New Year, A Softer Pace, A Deeper Purpose

As the new year begins, I find myself returning to the work of SAMA with a heart that feels fuller, steadier, and more honest than it did a year ago.

For a long time, I wrestled with the feeling that I hadn’t done “enough.” I had big dreams for how far SAMA would go, how much I would accomplish, how quickly things would grow. Some days, it felt like I fell short of my own expectations. But what I’m learning, slowly, gently, is that pauses are not failures. They are responses.

The past year required me to stop in ways I didn’t anticipate. I was grieving the loss of my grandmother, someone who shaped me in ways I’m still uncovering. Alongside that grief was another, quieter one: grieving a version of myself I felt I had lost while navigating a previous romantic relationship. Letting go of that chapter meant learning who I was again, outside of survival, outside of proving, outside of shrinking.

All of this unfolded while I was finishing my master’s degree, balancing deadlines, responsibilities, and the internal pressure to keep going even when my body and heart were asking me to slow down.

And yet, even in the middle of all of this, something beautiful happened.

I hosted my first workshop.

It was a success, not because it was perfect, but because it was real. It reminded me why this work matters. It reminded me that healing doesn’t require everything to be neatly figured out. It requires presence, intention, and community.

This year was full of ups and downs, but it was also deeply memorable. I regained my confidence; not all at once, but in quiet moments where I chose myself again. I gained a chosen family, people who showed up consistently, held space without judgment, and reminded me that I don’t have to carry everything alone. I learned what it feels like to be supported, not just in words, but in action.

At its core, SAMA has always been about building community, creating space for healing, and fighting for systems that are more equitable and just. That mission hasn’t changed. If anything, it has deepened. I now understand more clearly that advocacy rooted in care must include care for ourselves. That justice work is not only loud and visible—it’s also quiet, restorative, and human.

I’m incredibly proud of the community that continues to grow around this work. And I’m proud of myself, not for pushing through pain, but for growing through it. For finding beauty and light where I once only saw loss. For choosing to return, not hardened, but softened.

This new year isn’t about rushing to make up for lost time. It’s about moving forward with intention. With boundaries. With compassion.

I’m here. I’m returning. And I’m doing this work with a deeper understanding of what it truly means to heal, together.

The hug I needed.