2025: A year of Calibration | 在誤差之間矯正自己

Time moved faster than I expected. In what feels like a blink, I’m already stepping into my second year of the PhD. The journey from Copenhagen to Newmarket still feels recent, as if it happened just yesterday.

Looking back, 2025 was another meaningful year in the UK—full of new experiences, growing clarity about what I truly want to do, and a deepening sense of connection to this land. Of course, there were also stress, challenges, and moments of doubt. That, I’ve learned, is part of the process.

Scrolling through my photo album, I’m reminded of how full this year really was. Yet I also realized that I haven’t been documenting these moments as thoughtfully as I could—especially the ones worth sharing. I can do better.

So this blog is a start. Here we go.

Funny thing to share, here's what ChatGPT sees my year.

Coffee... notes and a little bit of rainfall with measuring cups, and slowly becoming an electrical engineer, I suppose?

Funny, but I do love it though

I would like to end the blog of this year with a review. A self-review of what I'd learned and what I can bring to the future.

Learning where precision ends

This subheading might look a bit hard to understand at first. Well, it’s actually about recognizing the limits of how much control, clarity, and certainty I can expect from life and from myself in this year. For a long time, I believed that if I planned carefully enough, worked hard enough, and thought things through thoroughly, everything would eventually fall into place. This year slowly challenged that belief. I learned that not every outcome can be optimized, and not every feeling needs to be resolved immediately. Some things remain uncertain no matter how much effort is put in—and that is not a failure.

As the year unfolded, I became more aware of how often I was trying to “fix” myself, chasing an ideal version of productivity, calmness, or confidence. Letting go of that constant self-correction was uncomfortable at first. But in doing so, I found more room to breathe, to reflect, and to move at a pace that felt honest rather than forced. Learning where precision ends has meant allowing space for imperfection, trusting the process even when it feels messy, and understanding that growth does not always come from doing more, but sometimes from knowing when to stop.

Phases of the year

There are some wonderful phrases that I heard that shaped me for this year. Let me share it in a new way by putting them into some very nice photos :)

Between Rain Gauges and Point Clouds

Much of this year quietly unfolded in an in-between space for me. It felt like standing between what was right in front of me and what only existed as a possibility—between daily routines and distant ideas, between the present moment and the future I was slowly imagining. Some days were grounded and tangible, shaped by simple actions and familiar rhythms. Other days drifted into reflection, filled with questions about direction, purpose, and what kind of life I was moving toward. Living in this space in between was not always comfortable, but it was honest.

Over time, I learned not to rush myself out of that uncertainty. Instead of forcing clarity or demanding immediate answers, I began to see value in holding both grounding and imagination at the same time. Staying present no longer meant giving up on dreams, and thinking about the future did not require escaping the now. This balance—between where I am and where I hope to be—became something I learned to trust. The year did not offer clear conclusions, but it offered alignment, and for now, that feels enough.

Carrying into 2026

When I tried to reflect on what 2025 had actually taught me, and what I should carry into 2026, I found myself pausing longer than expected. I was surprised by how unsure I felt. Instead of clear answers, there was hesitation—an unfamiliar sense of not knowing exactly what I wanted next. For a moment, that uncertainty felt uncomfortable. But it also felt honest. It reminded me that reflection does not always arrive neatly, and that not every transition needs to be decisive or dramatic.

Eventually, I realized that when clarity feels distant, starting with goals helps me regain a sense of direction. Not rigid plans, but gentle anchors—enough to guide my steps without constraining them. For me, setting goals has always been a way to turn uncertainty into movement. As I step into 2026, I want to carry a few simple intentions with me: to stay curious rather than rushed, to value consistency over intensity, and to allow myself room to grow without constant self-judgment.

More importantly, I want to be mindful of how I move through the year, not just what I achieve by the end of it. I want to pay attention to my energy, to notice when I am pushing too hard and when I am holding back out of fear. Carrying 2025 into 2026 is not about closing a chapter neatly, but about continuing with greater awareness. If there is one thing I hope to bring forward, it is the ability to keep going with patience and intention, even when the path ahead remains only partly visible.

#LifeInBetween #ReflectingOn2025 #CarryingInto2026