Why I Didn’t Share “Yearly Highlights” This Year

Every January, the internet turns into one long highlight reel.

People post their little recap videos. The “best moments.” The glow-ups. The milestones. The perfectly edited proof that they had a meaningful year.

And this time around, I watched two of my favorite celebrities do it, too. Just quick clips—year highlights, life updates, that kind of thing. One got a tattoo. One got a surgery (not plastic surgery, by the way—just… life happening). And while I was watching, I felt this sinking, embarrassing heaviness in my chest.

Because it hit me: I can’t do that.

Not honestly, anyway.

And I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t want to lie to myself.

“But you did have good things happen.”

Here’s the part that makes it confusing, and honestly, makes me feel guilty.

On paper, my year doesn’t look “bad.”

In real life, I became an apartment owner. I entered a relationship. I traveled—twice, I think… no, three times.

Those are big things.

Those are the kinds of things you’re supposed to be grateful for. The kinds of things that should automatically become your “highlights.”

But the truth is: I did not have a good year.

And I’m tired of pretending that a list of achievements cancels out how it felt to be inside my own head.

Because the year didn’t feel like thriving. It felt like surviving.

My “highlights” were heavy

I struggled with weight loss. And I think I regained some of the weight I’d lost.

I was jobless for at least two months.

I was suicidal.

So tell me—how am I supposed to hop online and make a cute little montage with music in the background and captions like “so grateful 🥹✨”?

How am I supposed to wrap up pain in a bow and call it “growth”?

I don’t want to perform resilience. I don’t want to turn my worst moments into content that people consume in fifteen seconds and then scroll past.

And I definitely don’t want to pressure myself to “prove” my year was worth something just because everyone else is posting theirs.

Watching people thrive made me feel worse about myself

Here’s something I don’t think we talk about enough:

Sometimes seeing people happy makes you sad.

Not because you hate them. Not because you’re bitter. Not because you want them to fail.

But because their happiness shines a light on the places inside you that feel empty, scared, or unfinished.

Watching everyone thrive this year literally made me feel terrible about myself.

It wasn’t inspiration. It wasn’t motivation.

It was a trigger.

Because while they were posting their wins, I was trying to keep myself alive. I was trying to make it through days that felt too heavy. I was trying to survive a job I thought was toxic.

And now I have a new job—and somehow, it seems like things might be even worse.

That’s the part that scares me.

The future scares me more than the past

Even now, as a new year has come, I worry.

I worry it might be a repeat of the last one.

I worry I might become suicidal again, because I don’t want that for myself. I don’t want this kind of life for myself.

I don’t want to wake up every day and feel dread like it’s normal.

I don’t want to keep white-knuckling my way through my own existence.

I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen to me—future-wise. I’m worried about my personal future. I wish I could run away. I wish I could move to a different country. I wish for many things.

And I hate that I can’t just know that everything will be okay.

The problem with “yearly recaps” is that they demand a storyline

The internet loves a clean narrative:

• I struggled.
• Then I overcame.
• Then I bloomed.
• The end.

But real life doesn’t work like that.

Sometimes you struggle and you’re still struggling.

Sometimes you “level up” in one area and completely fall apart in another.

Sometimes your year includes a new home and a new relationship… and also days where you didn’t want to be here anymore.

What do you do with that?

A highlight reel can’t hold contradictions. It can’t hold nuance. It can’t hold the messy truth.

So if your year didn’t come with a satisfying ending, posting a recap can feel like forcing your life into a shape it doesn’t fit.

I’m sensitive to collective energy—and it messes with me

I’ve been thinking about this through my astrology lens, too.

I have a lot of 12th house energy in my chart. And for me, that shows up as this intense sensitivity—like I’m almost allergic to collective emotion.

It’s like I don’t just see what everyone is doing, I feel it.

I don’t just notice trends, I absorb them.

And the “New Year, New Me” wave? The mass posting? The recaps? The “look how much I changed” energy?

It hits me like sound that’s too loud. Like light that’s too bright. Like I’m taking in too much at once.

And then my brain does the thing it always does:

What does this mean for me?

What does this say about my life?

What does it say about me if my year doesn’t look like theirs?

That comparison spiral is exhausting. It’s not logical. It’s emotional. It’s deep. It’s automatic.

And it interferes with my life.

What I wish people understood

I wish people understood that not everyone is posting because they had a great year.

Some people post because they’re trying to convince themselves they did.

Some people post because they only show the parts that feel safe.

Some people post because the internet rewards happiness and punishes honesty.

And some people don’t post at all—not because they “did nothing,” but because they’re still trying to recover from what they lived through.

If you didn’t share your highlights this year, it doesn’t mean you failed.

It might mean you’re protecting yourself.

It might mean you’re being real.

It might mean you’re honoring your nervous system.

So what am I doing instead?

I’m not doing a highlight reel.

I’m not doing a polished recap.

I’m not forcing my year into a mood board.

Instead, I’m choosing something quieter.

I’m choosing the kind of reflection that doesn’t require me to pretend.

Because even if my year wasn’t “good,” I’m still here.

And maybe that’s not a cute montage moment, but it’s the truth.

Maybe the real “update” is this:

I’m trying.

I’m trying to build a life that doesn’t make me want to escape it.

I’m trying to find stability.

I’m trying to find safety—inside my own mind, not just in my circumstances.

And if this new year scares me, it’s because I care. It’s because I’m still hoping for something better.

If you feel this way too

If you’re reading this and you feel behind, or ashamed, or like you can’t relate to everyone’s glow-up content—please know this:

You are not broken because your year was hard.

You are not weak because you struggled.

And you are not obligated to turn pain into a performance just to make other people comfortable.

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is survive privately.

Sometimes the most honest “year recap” is simply admitting: I’m still here, and I’m still trying.

That’s not nothing.

That matters.