The end…?

It’s the last day of November, an eventful, intense month, “my month”. 

But as I sit on the couch, sipping my black English breakfast tea on this wintry morning, I feel like more than just this month is over. I feel like I’m nearing “the end”, some “end”. 

The “end” of what, though? 

The end of a year full of athletic endeavors, with half-a-dozen competitions, grass-roots activism, and a handful of “1st overall nonbinary” prizes? 

The end of the first calendar year since 2022 with no surgery for me? 

The end of the first year since 2022 of relative stability in my professional & living situations? 

The end of the bureaucratic battles (that are actually possible for me to fight) to see my chosen name & affirmed gender recognized on paperwork and documents? 

The end of a year of renewed travel and adventure that allowed me to rediscover important parts of my identity? 

The end of a year of “pruning relationships”, as old friendships ended or got redefined and new ones started?

The end of the year in which I got over the worst of my autistic burnout at last? 

And yet, that autistic burnout feels like it’s not wholly defeated, it feels like it’s clawing at me again now, at the end of this eventful month, at the end of this holiday weekend. 

And I dread what is ahead of me, for next year. Overall I think 2025, while hard, has been a “positive” year, because despite and through the hardships I have found some almost unprecedented growth and healing. I’m afraid 2026 won’t hold up to this. I’m scared of the void ahead of me with no definite athletic goals in view. I’m afraid of the professional and living uncertainty ahead of me as both my grant and my lease come to an end in a few months. I can already feel the worry not only of the Christmas holidays looming in a few weeks but also, and more concerning in a practical way, the stress of having to look for a new job and for a new living space, and probably move, once again in a few months. And of having, once again, to do it all by myself. 

I’m tired. I’m so, so tired. 

Is this why it feels like some sort of “end” to me: because I’m tired and feel like I don’t have the energy to face any more? Or because what I have to face seems to be only full of stress and devoid of any joy?