From Falling Apart to Falling into Place

Moving Forward with Momentum, and Intention

If 2025 felt like everything was falling apart, you’re not imagining it. It felt that way for me too.

2025 was my first full year of being fully no contact with my family of origin, and the year I stepped out of the role of family scapegoat. A role I had carried for most of my life without fully realizing how deeply it shaped who I thought I was allowed to be.

Going no contact was part of reclaiming autonomy and authenticity, and learning how to live without the familiar pull of blame, projection, and expectation. I knew it was necessary. I didn’t yet understand the emotional cost.

That year did not come with ease.

For a long time before that, my life had felt like a finished puzzle laid out on a table. The picture made sense on the surface. It was familiar. It showed who I thought I was, tightly meshed with who others expected me to be, and who I learned to believe myself to be through their eyes.

But it wasn’t fully mine. It was familiar, and I mistook that familiarity for safety.

In 2025, that puzzle wasn’t gently rearranged. It was lifted and thrown into the air.

Pieces scattered everywhere. Some flipped upside down. Some landed on top of each other. Some seemed to disappear altogether. The picture I had been looking at for so long no longer existed.

As everything came apart, I came face to face with much of my shadow. Deep insecurities brought to the surface that strategy could no longer hide. Beliefs I had carried as truth that were slowly revealed to be falsehoods. Stories about who I was, what I deserved, and how I was supposed to exist in the world, many of them formed in survival, not truth.

It’s easy, in moments like that, to believe everything is unraveling.

But for me, 2025 wasn’t about fixing or perfecting anything. It was about disruption. About shaking loose what could no longer come with me. About stepping out of survival patterns, outdated roles, and identities shaped by what I lived through and what others needed from me, rather than who I truly am.

That stage was uncomfortable because it offered no immediate clarity. It required sitting in not knowing. Staying with the pieces while they were still in the air. Resisting the urge to rebuild something familiar just to feel safe again.

And now, I am stepping into 2026.

This is where the energy shifts.

My intention is movement and momentum, reaching for what’s next with discernment, not desperation. And I will be breathing my way through this year, intentionally and with care. Breathing in a way that keeps me present in my body, grounded in myself, and aware of when to move and when to pause.

I’m no longer trying to recreate the old picture. I’m choosing what belongs in the new one.

Some pieces will fit easily, without force.

They will align with who I am now. Others will clearly not belong, even if they once felt essential. And some pieces won’t be broken at all.

They’ll be unfinished, waiting to be shaped by choice instead of survival.

I’m only days into this new year. I’m not standing over a finished picture with certainty or answers. I’m back at the table, slowly and intentionally, noticing which pieces I’m willing to touch. Breathing as I do, staying present with my body as much as my mind.

Putting the puzzle back together doesn’t look like rushing or forcing clarity. It looks like picking up one piece at a time and asking honest questions.

Does this belong to me now?

Does this feel true in my body?

Was this shaped by survival, or by choice?

Some days I may only turn a piece over and set it back down.

Some days I may realize a piece doesn’t belong in the picture at all.

There is no urgency here. The work now is discernment. Allowing space between the pieces.

Letting the picture reveal itself instead of deciding what it should be. Letting my breath set the pace, reminding my system that I am here, now, and safe enough to move slowly.

As the year unfolds, the movement will become steadier.

Choices will come with more confidence and less explanation.

Boundaries will feel clearer, not heavy.

Decisions will come from alignment rather than reaction.

My breath will help me stay present through it all, connected to my entire body, not just my thoughts.

2026 is for moving with my parts, not away from them. The parts of me that did the shedding in 2025 worked incredibly hard.

Protectors loosened their grip.

Parts that had been bracing for years allowed themselves to rest.

Exiles came closer, not to overwhelm me, but to be seen.

My intention is to build trust with what’s being created now. The protectors won’t be asked to tear anything down. They’ll be asked to trust what’s being built.

My intention is to lead from Self more often, to notice my parts without being pulled by them.

When something doesn’t feel right, I know to pause and breathe.

When something feels aligned, I’ll move.

And when a part is afraid, I know to stay present, using my breath to anchor me instead of pushing past it.

2026 is for learning that safety can exist in forward motion.

My intention is to let growth happen without collapse, and healing without constant excavation. I've already done that work.

Now, I get to practice living.

The picture that forms this year won’t be perfect, but it will be coherent. My parts will recognize themselves in it. They’ll know they belong.

And together, breathing through each step, we’ll keep choosing what fits, what’s honest, and what allows us to move forward with clarity and courage.

So if you’re looking back at 2025 feeling shaken, tired, or unsure, you’re not alone. That year asked a lot of us.

And now, 2026 invites us to move.

Not from fear.

Not from urgency.

But from clarity, courage, and choice.

If you feel it too, I invite you to step into this year with me.

To breathe with intention.

To stay present in your body.

To trust that the pieces are settling.

To make room for the recalibration.

Teresa E Napierala

Certified Somatic Wellness Practitioner

Founder of Energies in Motion