What I’ve Learned in 2025

I think it’s safe to say that for many people, 2025 has been an incredibly trying year. For me, it often felt like I was constantly waiting to catch a break. And yet, despite how hard this year has been, it’s also taught me some of the most important lessons of my life. So I wanted to share them. This is my brain dump of 2025.

January to April: Surviving, Not Living

January to April marked Term 3 at school, and my support worker and I were regularly clocking over 60 hours a week. I was putting the children and the job ahead of my health; without really questioning it. Weekends were spent passed out in bed, not living, just recovering enough to get through the next week.

I’m a perfectionist. I wanted every child in my class to feel seen, heard, understood; every lesson, every day. But that standard was impossible to sustain. One of the first lessons this year taught me was that asking for help is not failure. I learned to delegate tasks I simply couldn’t manage and to lean on my support worker in ways I hadn’t before.

My health continued to deteriorate. I lost the ability to drive safely and had to acknowledge that. My support worker extended her days to drive me to and from school, something I’m endlessly grateful for.

The Summer Term: When Independence Disappears

By the summer term, I was struggling just to stay awake, alert, and functional enough to teach. Almost every break and lunchtime was spent lying on the classroom floor, regulating my body and trying to regain enough energy to keep going.

I pushed my body far beyond its limits and experienced lower-body paralysis more times than I care to admit. My independence disappeared. My support worker helped me to the bathroom, helped me dress, helped me eat. Accepting that level of dependence was deeply difficult.

At the same time, my partner shared that she could no longer continue living in her gender assigned at birth and began her social transition. While I fully support her, this period was emotionally intense and incredibly demanding. Change is something I find terrifying and exhausting, and everything was changing all at once… thoughts, plans, timelines. I was still teaching full-time, then coming home to a world that felt unfamiliar every day.

I felt like I was failing everyone. The children in my class. My partner. Myself. I pushed my own emotions aside, trying to be everything for everyone, while family difficulties simmered quietly in the background.

Summer Holidays: Hitting Rock Bottom

By the time the summer holidays arrived, I was in the worst mental place I’d been in for a very long time. We experienced an early miscarriage, which was devastating. My partner had decided to begin medical transition, meaning trying to conceive naturally would no longer be possible. It was a period of grief layered on top of exhaustion, fear, and uncertainty.

She also secured a job in Edinburgh. After months of trying to find accessible housing, we were told that social housing there would never be an option. The stress this created was immense. I felt constantly misunderstood, like anything I said was wrong, uncaring, or lacking empathy. I cried almost daily for weeks. Life felt overwhelming and, at times, pointless.

I knew then that I couldn’t return to classroom teaching in the way I had before. Even after the summer break, I wasn’t mentally capable of it.

The Turning Point: Saying Yes to Something New

And then, slowly, things began to shift.

A pupil I had tutored that year, and her mum, encouraged me to start my own business and make supporting neurodivergent children my full-time work. True to form, once the idea took hold, I went all in. I contacted Business Gateway, who referred me to South of Scotland Enterprise (SOSE) and The King’s Trust. That single step changed the entire trajectory of my career, my mental health, and my life.

I nervously signed up for two workshops: Selling Online with Karen, and Female Entrepreneurs & Start-Ups: Building Confidence and a Strong Mindset with Jill and Tara. I was terrified! Speaking to adults, being visible, sharing ideas… it all felt overwhelming. But I knew that growth lives in the uncomfortable spaces. And it was so worth it!

The Last Three Months: Growth, Courage, and Community

The final three months of 2025 have been nothing short of transformative.

Since September, particularly through the support of Jill and Lindsay (the most amazing coaches), the encouragement I’ve received has gone far beyond anything I expected. Their belief in me and in Kindling Minds has been consistent, genuine, and unwavering. Not just in big milestones, but in the small moments: the check-ins, the reassurance, the gentle nudges forward when self-doubt crept in.

I’ve learned what it truly means to face fear head-on. I’ve done things that once felt impossible, speaking up, showing up, sharing my work, allowing myself to be seen. I’ve learned that courage doesn’t mean fear disappears; it means you carry it with you and move forward anyway.

Perhaps the most powerful lesson has been finding people who accept you exactly as you are. People who enjoy speaking to you. Who listen without judgement. Who see your strengths even when you’re focused on your struggles. Being in spaces where I didn’t have to mask, explain, or shrink myself has been deeply healing.

How This Shaped Kindling Minds

That support has directly shaped Kindling Minds, how I speak about my work, how I connect with families, and how I create its future. Through these connections, I’ve found a community of like-minded people: small business owners, creatives, and change-makers who genuinely want to lift each other up. There is something incredibly powerful about being surrounded by people who celebrate your wins as if they’re their own.

Because of this, I’m stepping into 2026 on the right foot. With clarity, confidence, and a sense of belonging I didn’t have before. Being invited to attend a parliamentary reception celebrating five years of SOSE, and recognising the impact small businesses are having across the Scottish Borders, feels like a moment of reflection and recognition. Not just of what I’ve built, but of how far I’ve come.

Looking Ahead

This chapter of 2025 has taught me that growth doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens in community. In encouragement. In saying yes, even when you’re unsure or even scared! As I look ahead to 2026, I do so with gratitude, excitement, and a quiet confidence that this is only the beginning.

Here’s to a more confident and self accepting 2026! Happy Holidays!