I’ve heard people use a lot of words to describe 2025, but as yet, nobody I know has said what a great year it was. Quite the contrary: for people in my world, 2025 well and truly sucked.

Here’s the tally of the losses and challenges among people I know. First, the deaths. Three friends lost their respective fathers. One of those also lost two of her three dogs. My cousin lost two of her sisters in the space of a few weeks. (Yes, they were my cousins, too, but I hadn’t seen or spoken with either in decades.) A volunteer at the cat shelter where I also volunteer died, leaving a 91-year-old husband who couldn’t care for their elderly cats, and so Kallie and Stella are now a part of my family. On the non-death side, a relative got divorced, and a friend lost his job in a way that has required him to hire legal counsel.

As I ruminated on this list, it occurred to me that by comparison, my year went quite well. My immediate family is all in reasonably good health (although my elderly mother did have another mini-stroke early in 2025). In my day job, business was very good. My cat family expanded from four to six, all of whom are doing well despite their exalted ages. While I had to replace the dishwasher and the refrigerator in the space of a few months, I was able to do so. I went on Medicare, which means that I no longer pay health insurance premiums of $1,400 per month. I participated in several excellent markets and book events and was able to chat with a number of people who told me how much they love my books. Although I didn’t finish my current novel-in-progress as I’d originally planned, I have made good progress and I truly believe it will be published this year.

This is not to say I had no blips in 2025. Mom’s mini-stroke disrupted my schedule for a few weeks while she was in the hospital and then rehab. In late spring, my 17-year-old cat had a urinary tract infection that involved several weeks of peeing on my bed. Kallie and Stella both have litter box issues as well, which means that I have a standing order for the housebreaking pads that now carpet my office. My attempts to return to a healthy (or at least healthier) weight succeeded for a time, but by the end of the year, the scale and I were not on speaking terms. In July, I was diagnosed with sleep apnea, which means I’ve joined the legions who use a CPAP machine every night. Because business was good (and expenses were up), I failed to take breaks, much less vacations, leaving me in a fairly constant state of exhaustion. On a less personal level, the stress of watching the felon and his corrupt cronies systematically dismantle this country and all it once stood for is undeniable.

My way of managing stress and uncertainty is to make clear plans and set concrete, measurable goals. I came into this year with the goal of publishing my third novel, so that’s definitely on the list. If I want a publication date at the beginning of November so the book is ready for the holiday season, I need to establish a schedule with deadlines for finishing the current draft, securing beta reader comments, making revisions, copyediting, arranging for cover design and interior formatting, getting blurbs, and a thousand other details. Then, I need to commit to spending real time on the book every day, without caring whether I feel like writing or whether I’m inspired or any other nonsense. Some people may be able to produce wonderful books without imposing such firm requirements, but I’m not one of them.

Publication isn’t my only goal for 2026, but the other goals are proving trickier, if only because they’re dependent on factors I may not be able to control. Last night as I made my final 2025 payments on various accounts, it occurred to me that if all goes well in 2026, I’ll be in a position to finish paying off the outstanding debt on the boiler I purchased in 2016 when the original one failed, hospital expenses for my 2023 appendectomy, and the mortgage on my house. On the other hand, I have a serious plumbing situation that requires attention before it becomes an emergency, and since my former excellent plumber has left the business, I’ve struggled to find someone who can handle this project well and without charging a fee that will create new debt and/or interfere with my ability to pay off existing debt. (The joys of an old house: on the one hand, it’s well-built, but on the other hand—well, the original parts are old, which means repair or replacement.) So to a certain extent, my 2026 goals look a whole lot like 2025 (and all the years before), i.e., figure out what needs to be done and how to pay for it, and hope that nothing screws up my plans.

Of course, there’s the reality that any number of unforeseen, uncontrollable things could cause all my plans to go south. Anybody who remembers the pandemic knows this. At present, the country is in dismal shape for those of us who aren’t billionaires. Yesterday when I went food shopping, the effects were obvious: prices on nearly everything had increased over the past several months, and fewer items than usual were on sale. My first instinct was to say, “Okay, I can’t afford anything for the Blessing Box this week.” In the next moment, the response made itself known: this was exactly the reason to buy provisions for the Blessing Box. If things were tight for me, how much harder were they for those who rely on the Blessing Box to help to feed their households?

The bottom line is that nobody knows what this year will bring. For some, this is exciting; for others, it’s an invitation to hide under the bed. There are those who love the thrill of a roller coaster with its sharp curves, steep climbs, and downhill dashes, who find uncertainty exhilarating and certainty dull. I admire these people, but I freely confess that I’m not one of them—at least, not any more. Some might say I once was, back when I left the safety of traditional employment to branch out on my own—except that having watched so many friends get screwed over by their corporate employers over the years, I suspect my situation is at least as secure as theirs.

So, what do we do? Do we make plans knowing that they may be unexpectedly derailed, or do we just bop along and see what happens? The answer is: it’s your choice.

I’m a planner; it’s just how I roll. If you’re not, good for you. Whichever way you operate, I hope the coming year brings you joy, laughter, good health, adventure (if you want it), and a sense at the end of 2026 that it all turned out exactly as you dreamed.