Letting It Go: Shedding the Skin of the Year of the Snake

So it is a new year, and I am trying to shed the skin of the year of the snake — a year heavy with sorrow, hurt, and hard realizations about others and myself. Today, I am focusing on one thing: Let it go.

I’ve spent far too much time wading through years of hurt, not feeling good enough, and holding onto anger over betrayals. This past year, I came to understand something I’ve resisted for a long time — some people are not who I built in my mind. They do not love me in the way I once chose to believe they did.

That realization is painful. Some of that pain is about their choices, but some of it is mine — for choosing to believe the version I wanted to see instead of the evidence that was right in front of me.

So I am learning to hug the version of me — the one who felt invisible, burdensome, and unprotected — and tell her she is safe now. Because no one can guard me if I don’t.

I can’t keep hoping others will love me the way I need them to. I can only love myself enough to let it all go. To choose myself over everyone else. To hold on to my empathy and kindness — the parts of me I’ve always been proud of — while releasing the pain that weighs me down.

So today, I am choosing peace. I am choosing to leave the hurt behind in 2025 and look forward to a new year and a new me.

It means gaining control over how much I preserve the pain. It means internalizing one of my favorite poems that I have never t been able to accomplish:

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.

This is the work of the new year — to let it go, to shed the old skin, and to finally grow into the woman who knows she is enough.

So for this new year, I’ve created myself a vision and motivational board. I chose the blue flowers for focus, the gold for wisdom, the rose gold for warmth, and the stones for grounding myself. This is not just an act of creativity — it’s a gentle, visual reminder of who I am and who I am becoming. It is Soul Care.

This is Soul Care — and Soul Care is hard work. It’s not the bubble baths and pedicures (though those things are wonderful). It’s facing the hard truths you’ve avoided. It’s accepting that the only person you can truly change is yourself.

It’s realizing that, in most cases, no one else will care for the who you are — you have to do it. It’s building boundaries out of Soul Care, not anger or bitterness. It’s choosing to rise above the hurt and make choices out of preservation, not spite.