The Weight of Words: Attempting to Let Go

I have yet to write my goals down for 2026, but starting this newsletter is definitely one of them. Technically, this was one of my goals for 2025, but sometimes time moves faster than we can process...

Welcome to Human Writing by CKC (name subject to change). I'll get to the point of it all soon, but for now we're going to dive right in.

Instead of writing a full list of resolutions, I finally chose my word for year (just a couple days ago), and if you know me, then that's a big deal. For those unaware, let me dabble in some personal history:

Ever since I was a kid, I loved choosing a last word of the year and first word of the year. The last word, of course, is something I want to let go, and the first word is something I want to manifest.

New Years Eve more than a year ago now (2024 to 2025) was the first time in my adult life that I did not celebrate the occasion with the proper sparkly outfit, surrounded by friends, bubbly, and the anticipation of a fresh start. At the time, I was at a restaurant that required all staff to work NYE. I was upset, but I knew I couldn't get out of it. I also figured that as we grow older, we can't always celebrate holidays the way we used to. This is all to say, I don't even remember my word for 2025, and I promised myself after that night that I'll never work another NYE again.

I'm past that restaurant now, but it continued to be rollercoaster of a year — from pausing the server life for a couple months to do UGC work, to starting back at a new "hip" restaurant that completely left me in shock and shambles. I am now at a restaurant that gave me my favorite holiday off (after agreeing to work Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve, but hey...we win some, we lose some).

This NYE felt different, though. I recently entered my late-20s and going out to a club, shoulder-to-shoulder on a dance floor with strangers, didn't seem as appealing as it used to be. Instead, I went to my friend's apartment party. It was a small crowd, but we drank lots, took tons of pictures in front of a shiny photo wall, and eventually turned on JackBox games to play Murder Trivia Party.

My brain leading up to this NYE was clouded. I couldn't think of a last and first word. I worked so much over the holiday season that I wasn't able to pause and reflect on what happened in 2025 and what needs to happen in 2026 to achieve my dreams.

Funny enough, due to my friend's jailbroken TV, we missed midnight. Her TV / livestream was literally two minutes slower than the actual time! It was hilarious, and an odd sense of relief filled my body. We said Happy New Year once (when we realized it was suddenly midnight), and then we said it again two minutes later when my friend's TV showed us the ball drop and countdown.

I didn't say any meaningful words. I didn't close my eyes and fill my heart with a deep sense of hope and pressure. I didn't sit within the moment to listen to God / the universe. We were just all laughing, calling other friends and family, and enjoying that silly little moment of missed time.

Serendipitous Signs

After that night, I didn't care to immediately think of a last and first word. I didn't rush to write down my new year goals and resolutions. I didn't realize it until recently, but missing this midnight was probably the greatest mishap to ever happen to me (in the most dramatic, unserious way possible).

At the end of 2025, from September to December, I was utterly miserable, working full-time during the holiday season at a restaurant that's barely five blocks away from Rockefeller Center and the iconic Christmas tree that thousands of tourists come to see every year. (Yes, it has been hell on Earth for me). I literally found a new therapist / restarted therapy because of how depressed and anxious I have been. Even the smallest stressors like not introducing myself to a table in time or forgetting someone's soda made me want to break down and cry. I hated myself and my life. I wanted to be perfect and amazing, but I wasn't able to catch my breath through the chaos of it all.

Since starting sessions, my therapist and I have been trying to see what we can do to improve my life. Do I quit the restaurant industry completely? Am I even able to handle the stress of dealing with hungry people with no manners? How else can I secure a stable income and still devote my time to acting, modeling, and writing? We decided that I will stay at this restaurant and see if cutting back my hours will help with my mental health.

After my last shift of 2025, I confronted my manager and told him I need to go back to our original agreement when I was first hired — part-time (three days only) with one weekend day off. As much as I was nervous to ask this, I knew whatever he would say would determine my next course of action. He nonchalantly responded, "Okay, we can do that." Although I was a bit bewildered at the ease of it all, I was alleviated. That night, I felt a slight shift in the universe.

Since the start of 2026, I've been waking up early to workout, making more meals at home, sleeping 9+ hours a night (mostly), and doing A LOT more creative work.

Now say, "mashallah" before it's too late!

The one lesson I've realized so far from 2025 is that I need to stop finding solace and joy in my service jobs. Being a waitress is not my dream, and it's not my long-term plan. With the help of a friend (who better be reading this newsletter), I've finally realized that I shouldn't hop from one restaurant to the next, hoping one of these spots will be "the perfect one." None of them are perfect for me because this is not what I want. Why should I feel content or happiness doing a job that I have no intention of keeping? I need to let the discomfort push me to do what I really want in my life.

Being able to take a step back from my restaurant job has already allowed my mental health to begin healing. Even though I didn't write down my goals (yet) or say a word at midnight on January 1st that defines my year, I'm really starting to just practice the joy being alive.

So here I am — letting go of old habits and releasing the constant self-pressure I put on myself.

I've finally decided that my word for the year is "calm." This is partially inspired by my coworkers at my current restaurant who constantly tell me, "Tranquillo, Lina!" They apparently have noticed how much I have been stressing out over nothing, and I am grateful to work with folks who have helped me realize that the world won't end if someone doesn't get their pasta right away.

We are in a time of literal lawlessness — living within a country and world where tomorrow may not turn out how we expect it to be. Let's be honest. It's hard to live day-by-day, wondering when the next disaster will hit. So I am saying, "F*ck it." I am going to let my art go and allow my human words flow. I'm accepting the fact that I'm flawed and I'm going to make mistakes, but I'm going to do it anyways, and I'd love to include you all in it. We will survive this time through art, community, and shared humanity.

This newsletter won't always be about me (I promise). I going to write more about our society, culture, current political climate, race, and more. I chose the name "Human Writing" to specify that a human is indeed writing because in a world so focused on artificial intelligence and the growth of technology, I want this to be a space to connect with our human selves and explore what that even means.

Words are immensely powerful tools, but they don't need to sit alone, weighing down our souls. Here, we will attempt to let go, create, discuss, and be.

Until next week, my friends.