Monthly Reflection
Opening Reflection: November 2025
There’s something sacred about this time of year — the way the air changes and everything slows down just enough for you to hear yourself think. November is a month of shedding and returning. It asks you to look at what you’ve been holding onto and decide what still deserves space in your hands, your heart, your routine. Growth isn’t always about adding more; sometimes it’s about finally letting go.
The energy this month carries truth, closure, and clarity — but not in a harsh way. It’s gentle. It’s the kind of honesty that feels like exhaling after a long season of pretending to be fine. Every sign is being asked to meet themselves where they are, not where they thought they’d be. There’s peace in that.
What I am Learning: November 2025
I’m learning that survival and living are not the same thing. For years, I’ve been in a rhythm of doing — working, striving, producing — because I thought momentum meant meaning. But this month, I’m starting to redefine success. It’s not about how much I accomplish, but how much of myself I preserve in the process.
Growth doesn’t have to be loud. Sometimes it’s as simple as saying “no” without explaining why, or walking away before you’re drained. This season is teaching me to stop proving and start protecting.
What I’m Reading, Watching & Listening To:
Reading: Rest Is Resistance by Tricia Hersey — a reminder that rest is not laziness, it’s liberation. Her words have been echoing in my mind: that our worth is not tied to our productivity, that rest itself is an act of reclaiming our humanity. It’s a book that doesn’t just tell you to slow down — it demands that you remember you were never meant to move at the speed of survival.
Watching: Solos on Amazon Prime — a hauntingly beautiful collection of stories that stretch the idea of identity, memory, and connection. Each episode feels like a quiet meditation on what it means to be human — to be alone, yet longing to be seen. It reminds me that even in solitude, there’s depth, tenderness, and meaning.
Listening: Good Thing We Stayed by UMI — warm, meditative R&B that feels like sunlight through blinds. Her music feels like an exhale — the kind of sound that invites you to unclench, to slow your breathing, to exist without performing.
Together, these pieces have been teaching me that slowing down doesn’t mean giving up — it means coming home. Home to your body, to your peace, to your truth. Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is stop running from yourself and just sit in the stillness long enough to hear your own voice again.
A Thought to Leave You With
Before you step into December, take inventory of what you’ve been carrying that isn’t yours anymore. The pressure to be perfect. The idea that you’re behind. The guilt of wanting something different. The quiet fear that maybe you’ve missed your moment. All of it — heavy, familiar, and quietly exhausting. You don’t have to drag those old narratives into a new season.
We talk so much about becoming — about evolving into the next version of ourselves — but sometimes the hardest part isn’t the becoming. It’s the releasing. It’s unlearning who you thought you needed to be to feel worthy. It’s letting go of timelines that never truly belonged to you.
Maybe surrender isn’t giving up. Maybe it’s finally trusting that what’s meant for you won’t require you to exhaust yourself to keep it. Maybe peace isn’t a reward; maybe it’s what’s left when you stop pretending.
So before the year ends, make space for softness. Rest where you can. Forgive yourself for all the times you kept pushing when you needed to pause. Then ask yourself — gently, honestly — what if my peace is waiting for me on the other side of surrender?