See Ya, 2025.

I have this tradition I’ve done for the past decade or so, where I write a bulleted list of all of the good things that God did this year. I haven’t done it yet this year, and I’m considering letting my blog post do that job. Truthfully, I’m ready to be in 2026 because there were a lot of hard things about 2025. I know there were good, even miraculous things too, but I think there is value in the humanity of admitting that the difficult things seemed to tip the scale in their direction as the year closed. So while my list of “Good Things God Did,” is absolutely full of good things, sometimes good is heavy too. 

In 2025 I had to undergo a colonoscopy, endoscopy, and swallow a camera. The jury is still out on whether or not the camera is still in my body because technically I never saw it, and you know, a girl can only look at her poop so many times before she’s completely over it. All of these tests were run because apparently I’m anemic? We still don’t know what’s going on with that, but I guess with the last couple of blood draws I had, there was basically no iron supply and my B12 and Vitamin D supplies were low as well. 2026 will hopefully bring with it some more answers. Prayerfully, it will be a year of less ridiculous copays, fewer appointments, and more Makaela comprehensible answers. 

But God has carried me through the whole thing. Not having answers is scary. The frustration I have had with my body’s inability to do what it was created to do is very real. There have been a lot of tears after a lot of follow up appointments where the latest specialist told me, “Well, we don’t really know, so now we are referring you to the next person.” More money. Seemingly fewer answers. However, I know that if it were not for the closeness of God, I would have lost my mind this year, for these reasons alone. He’s the reason I have a great support system holding me up through it all, and He’s the reason I am not constantly spiraling with any free moment that I have. I truly am grateful for that. 

2025 included a rollercoaster of events with my grandma too. I love her dearly, and I love the family that is around her, but there are reasons that it’s been extra exhausting that I don’t broadcast. I don’t know what your understanding or experience with trauma is, but it’s important to note here that when you experience trauma, specifically before your brain is fully developed it can permanently affect your cognitive functioning. Having an elderly grandparent that you love going through dementia decline is heavy enough, but when you add that to all of the connections my brain makes to the trauma I experienced as a child, it’s extra tough. There are so many similarities to my grandmother’s decline that are reflective of what I watched my dad go through. His addiction took away who he was and so many of the positive elements of our relationship. I watched him decline and decline until there was quite literally a shell of him left. 

Now, our brains are supposed to be wired to protect us from danger. There was so much emotional danger in the years leading up to the day my dad passed away. My brain is now wired to recognize those familiar feelings and circumstances and respond by attempting to keep me from harm. My defenses can rise, I shut down emotionally, I can become paralyzed and stuck in thought, and/or I can respond with big, seemingly exaggerated emotion. Those are all things I fight every time my brain thinks something bad might be trying to hurt me, even if I am actually completely safe. My nervous system is trained to recognize my loved one who is declining, in need of constant observation, and losing touch with me as something that has caused damage before. On top of it already being difficult to watch your loved one go through the dementia decline, my entire body is also fighting through fight or flight when I think about my grandma, talk to her, or am around her. 

With therapy this stuff can heal, and I believe I have come a really really long way in regulating my responses, rewiring my brain, and self soothing, but it does exist. I don’t talk about it as much because it feels very selfish. My grandma is the one suffering and in pain. My aunt is the one who has to care for her daily and put up with her stubbornness and confusion. But as a granddaughter, it is very very challenging to find the balance, if it even exists, between showing up and loving my grandma while she still has good days and taking care of myself because spending time with her, in a really blunt way, is a shock to my nervous system, and my career is already very emotionally and spiritually demanding. Gosh, typing that even feels selfish, but maybe there is hope for someone else feeling less alone in admitting this. The good thing in all of the mess is that I still get more days to love my grandma, and I really do love making new memories with her. I love that God has given me tools to understand my brain and that He has done so much to help it heal. It’s because of His love that I have any capacity to love at all through any of this. 

As of December 2025, I was officially diagnosed with ADHD. While I am very grateful to God for this finally being in writing, getting to the diagnosis was a lot of work. I’m talking about a total of about 7 hours of appointments (3.5 of which were actual testing which is hilariously ironic for someone seeking an ADHD diagnosis), and a few years of inklings that ADHD was something that I’d been living with my entire life but was too insecure or sensitive to actually seek out the truth. Turns out it’s there, and it probably always has been. No one ever caught it because mine presented as anxiety and depression, so that’s what was diagnosed and medicated. There are plenty of reasons why, especially females, receive their ADHD diagnosis later in life, but that might be a rabbit trail for another time. 

The reality of it all is that I do Attention Deficit Hyper Activity Disorder. There is a relief that comes with that affirmation, but there has been an unexpected emotional weight to it all too. Imagine being frustrated with the way your brain functions your entire life. Imagine constantly, silently beating yourself up because normal, human daily living functions seem way harder for you than other people make it seem. Even when things are going really great for me, I still lose my keys, misplace my phone, never remember any of my passwords, forget important meetings and commitments, experience decision fatigue, and get stuck in a paralysis of not being able to complete simple household chores. I have always known that is a part of who I am, but I have spent so many years being frustrated with myself and believing that I am just not able to do enough for myself, my job, and the people I love. Turns out, there isn’t something wrong with me, my brain is just wired differently than most. I have long been a part of the neurodivergent community because of PTSD, anxiety, and depression, but I thought having such a hard time functioning as an adult was my fault. I thought I just wasn't good enough at it. So much of the weight of these challenges I’ve just been unknowingly, silently repressing because surely everyone else is experiencing it this way too. Turns out, nope. 

Thank you, Jesus, for words to put to what has just been confused frustration for so long. Thank you for the tools that exist to begin healing and correcting some of my brain patterns. Thank you for the voices, as corny as it might be, speaking out on Tik Tok and podcasts so that I feel less alone in it. I give short form social media content creators so much credit for pointing me in the direction of this diagnosis step. My “For You” pages became so saturated in, “If you related to this, you might have ADHD," content that it became impossible to ignore. 

If you read my last blog post, or you have chatted with me recently about the big things in my world, you know that my best friend and I recently brought our homeless friend to rehab. Another really good, but also heavy thing. Another very trauma triggering experience, considering that not only did this man's story resemble my father, but his appearance did as well.

Getting him checked in took a lot of prayer, hard conversations, worry, and tears, but, my friends, he’s not just in rehab, he is THRIVING in recovery. We have heard back from him a few times with phone calls and written letters, and he isn’t just healing his own body, mind, and spirit, but he’s taking huge steps with God, and he can’t stop telling us that he wants to share his story in an effort to help people. It’s easily the greatest miracle to come out of my 2025. A miracle that seemed to take a lot of painful time marching through the desert to reach the Promise Land. But, he’s there, and I will be grateful for the rest of my life that I got to play any sort of role in that man’s story. God truly is miraculous.

I hope this post didn’t seem like a super bummer. I’m just ready for a new year. I know there will be challenges this year too. I know dementia doesn’t get better, it only declines. I know I’m still waiting on some health answers and next steps. I know there are more tests to be done and more doctor’s visits to pay for. I know there is a brand new diagnosis to begin unpacking with my therapist this year, and that will start with actually making myself go back to therapy. There is hard work ahead, but even through 2025’s most heartwrenching moments, God never left. He’s been as close as the air in my lungs with every step. Now, I haven’t always done the greatest job at acknowledging His presence or listening to His voice in the heavy moments, but drawing nearer to God feels like a good goal for 2026. It feels like a necessity in 2026.

If you’ve read this far, I pray that there was at least a piece of this that helped you to feel seen and maybe less alone. It’s tough existing out in our world, friends. This is your reminder to always be learning, growing, and taking care of you. How can you learn more about who you are this year, and how can you learn to love those parts of you as you learn about them? How can you in turn use those things to love others? Those are answers for you to find, but I can tell you a truth that’s far from secret: God is in it with you. God is for you. He loves you, and He wants to walk with you in 2026. He’s always been right there, even in the heavy. Maybe it’s your turn to reach for Him.

You are truly and deeply loved.