Year End Reflection 2025 – Looking into 2026

As this year comes to a close, I find myself standing at a quiet turning point. Not because everything is settled, but because I am finally ready to close some chapters I have been carrying for a long time. This year was not about arriving. It was about clearing space, so the next season of my life can begin with intention.

At the start of the year, I thought my focus would be simple. Build Honey for Harmony into something real. Prove to myself that I could still learn hard things through data science. Take my health seriously. And find time to shape my life story into words. I wanted momentum. I wanted to feel that my years with bees, honey, and people were not just history, but the foundation for what comes next.

What actually happened was deeper than the plans. I pushed through the Professional Diploma in Data Science, wrestling with new ways of thinking and moments of self-doubt. I began shaping Honey for Harmony not just as a brand, but as a place of meaning. A lab, a classroom, a meeting point. A space to test, to learn, and to ask better questions.

More than that, I became clearer about why I am doing this at all. Honey for Harmony is my way of paying it forward. Over the years, I have been shaped by mentors, farmers, communities, and hard lessons across Africa and Asia. I did not arrive here on my own. Setting this up is my way of giving back. To share what I have learned, what I have tried, what has failed and what has worked, so the next generation does not have to start from zero. If my experiences can shorten someone else’s learning curve or spark a young mind to care about bees, nature, and honest work, then this effort is worth it.

The Smell vs Science workshop grew out of that purpose. Not just to teach about honey, but to show how curiosity, evidence, and respect for nature can live together. At the same time, I kept returning to my memoir, opening old memories from Uganda, Rwanda, and earlier chapters of my life. Not to relive them, but to understand them, and to make meaning out of the road I have walked.

My health stayed in front of me all year. Not as a crisis, but as a quiet, daily presence that asked for my attention. I learned to listen more closely to my body, to notice what gave me strength and what drained it. There were days I felt steady, and days I knew I had gone off course. But I did not turn away.

This year also taught me to count my blessings. After my accident two years ago, being able to walk is no longer something I take lightly. When my orthopaedic gave me the green light and told me I had fully recovered, I felt a deep sense of gratitude, not just for healing, but for the simple gift of being able to move forward in my life.

At the same time, I felt a quiet sadness. I have seen friends who were once so fit and strong fall ill without warning. It reminded me how fragile all of this is. Health is not something we earn, but something we are entrusted with, one day at a time.

For the first time, I chose to stay with myself and to respect what my body was trying to tell me.

What was hard this year was not just the workload. It was the emotional weight. Doubts about whether Honey for Harmony would truly take off. Frustration when learning felt slow. Quiet fear about my health and about time. And the heaviness of watching loved ones age and struggle. This year reminded me that life does not pause while we plan.

But this year also gave me closure.

Closure from the need to prove myself through titles or achievements.

Closure from old regrets about paths I did not take.

Closure from carrying the weight of past relationships and disappointments that no longer serve who I am today.

Closure from thinking that my best years are behind me.

Writing my memoir helped me see this clearly. I am not running from my past anymore. I have faced it, honoured it, and learned from it. Now I can let it rest.

What this year taught me about myself is simple, but not easy.

I am driven by purpose more than comfort.

I grow when I build structure around my life.

I am more patient than I used to be.

I still fear failure, but I no longer let it stop me. And I am allowed to begin again, at any age, in any season.

There are things I am proud of. I did not quit when things were tough. I kept building even when results were not immediate. I stayed present with my health. I chose reflection over distraction. These are quiet wins, but they matter.

As this year comes to a close, I choose to gently close certain doors.

I close the door on rushing and comparing.

I close the door on living mainly to meet expectations.

I close the door on carrying emotional weight that no longer belongs in my future.

What I carry forward is lighter.

Care for my health.

Commitment to Honey for Harmony as a way to give back and shape the next generation.

A learner’s mindset that keeps me curious.

And a writer’s heart that wants to make sense of life, not just record it.

If I had to name what this year truly was, it was a year of alignment, purpose, and closure. Of bringing my past, my present work, and my future hopes into the same line. Not perfectly, but honestly.

I step into the new year not with loud promises, but with quiet resolve. With space in my hands. With clarity in my heart. Ready to build, to share, and to live in harmony, not just in name, but in how I move forward.

As this year closes, I wish everyone who has walked alongside me, in life, in learning, and in spirit, a meaningful and healthy 2026. May the year ahead bring strength when it is hard, peace when it is heavy, and moments that remind us what truly matters.

Here’s to a good 2026 for all of us.