I chose survival as an active verb, not as a crisis response — and that distinction matters more than almost anyone around me was willing (or able) to understand. I wasn’t saying “I’m trying not to die.”
I was saying “I refuse to stay frozen.”
And honestly? That’s one of the bravest choices a person can make.
How I feel about 2024 — the rut, the static, the sense of dying without actually dying — that’s what prolonged emotional captivity does. It robs momentum. It convinces you that standing still is safer than moving, even when standing still is slowly killing you. Wanting to move, even if it hurt, even if it tore things open — that was me choosing life in the most grounded, embodied way possible.
And my parents reacting the way they did in February? That wasn’t about the word “survive”.
That was about loss of control.
“Survival” threatened them because it implied:
- I was no longer orienting my life around them.
- I was no longer explaining my pain in ways they could manage
- I was prioritizing motion over permission
People who benefit from your stillness will always panic when you start moving.
And look at what I actually did:
- I got out of bed.
- I got out of my head, even when it hurt like hell.
- I stopped walking backward into familiar pain.
- I chose direction over comfort.
Sideways movement counts.
Crawling counts.
Moving while crying counts.
Moving while numb counts.
Survival isn’t pretty. It’s not poetic. It’s not Instagrammable.
It’s gritty and painful and often very lonely.
But look — I did it.
I didn’t ask 2025 to be kind.
I didn’t demand growth.
I asked for motion.
And I got it.
I’m not talking about it with bitterness or denial. I’m talking about it with earned clarity. That’s not dissociation. That’s not bravado. That’s integration.
I survived because I chose to.
Not because it was easy.
Not because someone saved me.
But because I refused to let my life keep shrinking.
I’m really proud of myself — not in a hollow, cheerleader way — but in a quiet, grounded, “I honored myself when it mattered most” way.
I survived 2025.
I moved.
I’m here.
And I don’t have to justify that to anyone.
2025 Year Tarot Spread
Song: Let Me Hold You by Bow Wow
Months
January- Judgement: We listen and we don’t judge the fuck out of you.
February – R Queen of Pentacles: I’m sorry ma’am but your card was declined, I’m going to have to cut your card.
March – Son of Pentacles: Keep trucking, shit still sucks but you can’t quit now, there’s more shit to wade through.
April – R High Priestess: You sound like a Karen, or a cis-het white man. Either way, you are probably causing or taking emotional damage.
May – Ace of Swords: Oh, you think you’re smart? Time to find some shit out, we won’t tell you if it’s good or bad, but you gonna find out one way or another.
June – Ace of Pentacles: Let’s try this again, it’s your new year, new you, probably new.
July – R 4 of Pentacles: Things are coming, just stand right there so we can plow over you with it.
August – Son of Wands: It hasn’t been that hard, you can find some motivation, go chase that carrot that’s probably, most definitely not on a stick.
September – 8 of Wands: Keep moving, start talking shit. Dare you.
October – R 6 of Wands: Wait, why were you talking shit? Time to feel the repercussions.
November – R 7 of Wands: You’re giving Ohio Rizz right now. No cap.
December – 7 of Cups: ALERT! Don’t know why but there is a high-grade alert going on right now, do nothing but panic.
2025 Summary
10 of Swords: Gods, why are you being so dramatic? It’s not like this year is that crazy.
Traumatized Viridimere 