It’s the 26th of December, and that means the Boxing Day Test is underway – five full days of bowling and batting in the relentless heat. I suspect it’s called test cricket because it’s a test of mental and physical endurance both for players and spectators. My love of cricket has already reached saturation levels on day one, and I find myself looking back over the year in the form of lessons learned.

Candour? Can do!

In a world mired in the superficial, straight talk is an asset (at least it should be), but my candour apparently unnerves some people, or so I’ve heard. I take this as a compliment. Listen to conversations around you – more often than not, words are offered to appease another, broker a desired result, avoid a conflict and be liked rather than to express an opinion, introduce an idea, learn something or have a meaningful exchange. If a restaurant manager asks about my dining experience, I’ll politely share that it took over 30 minutes for our server to make an appearance and another 45 until we eyeballed our meal. I’ll offer this feedback because a) I was asked; b) as a business owner, I would want to know if staff needed more training; and c) I’m not going to pretend for their sake that it was fabulous and then gripe privately or publicly. But it seems most people do just that. The restaurant manager in question seemed shocked that I offered feedback. I didn’t realise their How was your meal? was a rhetorical question.

No thank-you

For a long time, I found it hard to say no to people. Not because I didn’t want to alienate anyone or because I wanted to be liked, but simply because my motto has always been to help people when you can, especially when the benefit gained (by them) far exceeds any slight inconvenience (to me). But the more I shared – ideas, information, mentoring, encouragement, introductions, belongings, whatever – the more some people expected. Goodwill morphed into an entitlement on their part which gave off exploitation vibes. This offered a timely opportunity to consider why I often felt obligated to ‘fix’ other people’s issues, and why I sometimes felt guilty when I couldn’t. I’m much more discerning about who I share my free time with, especially considering I have so little of it. Rather than ‘giving’ per se, I’m now focusing on helping people to become stronger and better able to help themselves.

Why can’t we be friends?

Friendships takes time, energy and commitment, which are often lacking in a far-too-busy world. Sure, you may not hear from some close friends for years yet pick up right where you left off. But I’ve realised lately that many of my friendships are not genuine but circumstantial, forged of a shared interest (hobby, activity), children (mothers’ groups, parents of kids’ friends), association (friends of friends), work and more. I also realised that a few people I thought were my friends were more ‘acquaintances’ bonded by perceptions of mutual benefit. Over the years, some friends have made little to no effort to stay in touch; some only reach out when they want or need something. Many offer a line-item summary of their existence yet rarely show interest in life beyond their gaze; some seem incapable of opening up or having a meaningful exchange. There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of this – many people don’t like to dig deep and prefer small talk, for example. It’s just not what I’m looking for right now. While arriving at this conclusion, I learned two important things: It takes two to grow and nurture a friendship, and just because a friendship served a time and purpose doesn’t mean it’s meant to last forever.

Celebrating the Small Wins

The problem with social media and trending hashtags is that the key issues become lost in the hype. Take celebrating little victories which seems to be the narrative of late. No, I’m not going to showcase seemingly mundane tasks (I cooked a meal! I picked up the mail! I cleaned out a wardrobe!) because these tasks well within my expectations. And to honour that ‘achievement’ is to trivialise the real hurdles that many of us face. So yes, let’s stop and smell the roses, celebrating their beauty and also their thorns, but let’s also see the possibilities beyond the rosebushes.

Awkward moments

Although I present as confident and assured in a work setting, there’s no limit to my awkwardness in life. Like the time I hopped into my husband’s car when I came out of the local shops, only to realise I was sitting mid-conversation in an identical car two spots away with a stranger. Or the time I complained to a shop assistant that all clothes looked the same these days only to discover that I had been in that same shop ten minutes earlier (malls are confusing!). Or when I ran up to hug someone I hadn’t seen in ages only to realise they weren’t who I thought they were. Then there’s the time I slapped on some makeup in the car in the dark, mistakenly using my grey eye pencil for a lip liner and vice versa, which certainly raised eyebrows at my dinner meeting. And when I pulled out a pair of undies from my jeans leg that somehow got tangled up in the wash. I could go on and on. But rather than cringe, I’ve learned to embrace these moments for what they are – part of who I am … and a good laugh.

There have been plenty of writing goals and achievements over the past year, but although welcome, they’re not a priority and arguably not overly interesting. I suppose that’s another lesson. My self-identity has always been tied up with my work, and in recent years with my writing, but 2024 has taught me that balance and personal growth, at least its promise, is what motivates me.

I’m not sure what 2025 has in store, but I’m looking forward to finding out.