Alyssa Esparza Herrmann

I’ve been kind of resisting this whole “2016 was the best year” trend.

At first I was like… I don’t know? Nothing that major happened. I traveled a lot, sure. Lots of sun, lots of water, and loads of fun… But it didn’t feel like some big, shiny peak moment.

But then I actually let myself go back.
I started scrolling through my 2016 photos. Really looking. Letting myself feel that version of me again. And honestly… started sobbing like a baby (crying as I write this).

2016 was the year I met myself. Truly.

I was 28, deep in my Saturn return, with a heart that was still so raw from a breakup that completely shattered me. My whole life fell apart the year prior and it was still in deep waves of grief. At the time, it felt like the end of everything. Like I had lost the version of life I thought I was supposed to have.

But looking back now? It was just the beginning of me.

That was the year friendships healed my heart. The year I finally let myself feel deeply instead of staying busy or strong or “fine.” I was soft. I was cracked open. I was alive in a way I hadn’t been before.

I was deep in my creativity — writing a cookbook with my friends (The Peach Diaries 🥲). I was introduced to meditation for the first time. I was reading books that quietly changed the way I saw the world. I even started a YouTube food channel… which is honestly so cute of me.

And when I look at the photos now, it makes so much sense that I still love water and the sun, its like that version of me was instinctively finding regulation, healing, and safety even if I didn’t have the language for it yet.

You know that feeling when you zoom out on your life and all the dots connect?
That’s exactly how I feel about 2016.

Where I am now… the work I do… the woman I’ve become… it all traces back to that year. To that girl who had no idea what she was doing, but kept choosing honesty, creativity, and feeling her way forward.

2016 reminded me that sometimes the most important years don’t look “big” while you’re in them.

They’re quiet.
They’re tender.
They’re the years you become yourself.

#2016

Thank you, 2025.

You weren’t gentle.
You weren’t easy.

But you were honest — and you gave me my life back.
You stripped me of the versions of me that were surviving instead of living.

You taught me to listen to my body.
To trust my voice.
To choose truth over keeping the peace.
To let my marriage grow with me — not stay comfortable around me.

You showed me who I really am.
And I’m not leaving her behind again.

So here I am…
grateful, grounded, and finally home in myself.

And 2026…
I’m ready for you bayyybeeee