Tony Gebhard

As 2025 comes to a close, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about everything this year held—what stretched me, what shaped me, and what reminded me that even in the hardest seasons, resilience has a way of showing up quietly, patiently, and just when we need it most. This year was heavy in its own ways, but it was also full of growth so real and so personal that I feel it in my bones. Between navigating loss, rebuilding pieces of myself, and finding small pockets of joy in music, in my work, and in the people I love, 2025 became a year of rediscovery. It forced me to slow down, breathe deeply, and look at who I am becoming with honesty and compassion. Professionally, I poured myself into my clients, into teaching, into helping people build confidence with technology and accessibility tools that keep them connected and capable. I got to be part of their successes, their breakthroughs, and their moments of “Finally, I get it,” which is still one of my favorite parts of what I do. I also launched new creative projects, strengthened Inclusive Pulse, kept experimenting with radio and audio, and built more of the worlds and ideas that have been buzzing in my head for years. Step by step, 2025 reminded me that I’m allowed—and encouraged—to dream in multiple directions at once. Personally, this was the year I committed to facing some things head-on. Sobriety became not just a goal, but a decision I made every morning. The quiet moments—those ones no one sees—became proof that healing isn’t loud. It’s steady. It’s choosing a different path after seasons that nearly broke me. I’m grateful for the support I received, the therapists and grief groups that held space for me, and the strength I found in my faith when nothing else made sense. Mental health has become a major focus as I move forward. I’ve started learning more intentionally—reading, studying, reflecting, and understanding the “why” behind my thoughts, habits, and reactions. I’m doing the work not just to push through life, but to understand the life I’m living. And that has changed everything. Looking ahead to 2026, there’s a sense of calm determination in me. I’m building toward a year that prioritizes clarity, creativity, stability, and purpose. I’m investing in my education, organizing new projects for Inclusive Pulse, expanding my music and audio work, and stepping more fully into the person I want to become. I want 2026 to be the year I step into adulthood with intention—not the rushed, survival-mode adulthood, but a grounded, self-aware, emotionally honest version that honors the man I’ve been and the man I am becoming. And maybe the biggest part of all of this is acknowledging the milestone ahead: turning 30. For a long time, that number felt distant. Now, it feels symbolic—like a doorway into a decade where I get to apply everything I’ve learned, everything I’ve survived, and everything I’ve reclaimed. I want to go into 30 with a steadier heart, a clearer mind, and a deeper understanding of myself than ever before. So as this year closes, here’s what I know: I’m still healing. I’m still learning. I’m still growing. And I’m still here—breathing, creating, loving, and choosing to hope. If you’ve been part of my life in any way this year—thank you. Your support, your conversations, your small moments of kindness have meant more than you know. Here’s to stepping into 2026 with openness, courage, and the belief that new beginnings are always possible, no matter how many storms came before. Bruised, but breathing. Healing, but moving forward. Here’s to the next chapter. PS: I put out a new record in March. Check it out, Never Ending by Tony Gebhard