This year hit me like a bulldozer. There was no amount of reading and research that could have prepared me for this level of intensity, and I want to start this annual review by saying thank you.

I’m grateful to my body and brain for mostly holding up. I’m grateful I have access to spaces and tools such as psychedelic medicine, ecstatic dance, and entrepreneur retreats that have helped support my mental health throughout this journey.

Most of all, I’m grateful to the people in my life – my family, friends, colleagues, and the entire Ness Labs community – who all showed up in wonderful ways this year.

So much happened, but here’s a quick bullet-point overview before I dive in:

• Published my first book, Tiny Experiments, which is being translated into 18 languages.
• Recorded over 100 podcast episodes, including 60 in the lead-up to the book launch (which I do not recommend, more on that later).
• Gave dozens of keynotes and lectures with audiences ranging from 10 people to 1000+ including at the University of Oxford, TEDx, SXSW, Talks@Google, Harvard Alumni, and Creative Mornings, and got signed by a public speaking agency.
• Produced my first premium course in a studio with a live cohort of leaders.
• Received $200k in research funding from the UK government and led data collection for four research studies that are awaiting publication.
• Went to Burning Man, where my parents renewed their vows and my dad almost died.
• Connected more to the plant world: completed a 9-month herbalism training, made my first tinctures, went on several guided foraging walks, and I managed to keep a plant alive for more than 12 months (a beautiful orchid I named Rocky).
• Co-organized a mushroom ceremony for loved ones.
• Opened up publicly about my ADHD diagnosis.
• Looking through my calendar, I’m shocked at how many cities I visited this year: Paris, Hong Kong, Singapore, New York, Las Vegas, Boston, Boise, Atlanta, Nashville, Oslo, Amsterdam, Marseille, Zürich, Istanbul, the Black Forest in Germany, and I spent almost two months living out of an Airstream in Austin. I also got to visit more of the UK, including Leeds, Lancaster, Driffield, Osea Island, and the New Forest.
• Other highlights I don’t want to forget: had my PhD graduation ceremony, joined the reMarkable scientific advisory board, became a contributor for Big Think, downsized the Ness Labs team, and got to meet lots of authors, researchers, and entrepreneurs I admire. I also danced in a sauna, hosted dinners at home, and went on a big hike in Brittany with my parents and siblings for my mom’s 70th birthday.

Building a digital immune system

I consider myself a child of the internet. As a teenager, I had a hand-coded blog and a community of online friends from all over the world, whom I’d only ever communicated with in writing via phpBB forums and our ‘blogring’ (remember those?).

Although I had a bunch of odd jobs when I was younger, my first ‘real’ job was at Google, and Ness Labs is largely an online business – with an online newsletter, online community, and online courses.

So I thought I was prepared for the influx of online attention I’d get when launching the book. Boy, was I wrong.

Going on dozens of podcasts was not only exhausting at times, but getting featured on big YouTube channels meant millions of people heard from me for the first time – and not all of them were nice. When the book came out in March, I really struggled with the rare but still hurtful comments on my accent, my appearance, and my supposed unchecked privilege.

I didn’t have to deal with Tim Ferriss levels of threats, but to give you an idea, some commenters said my accent made their ears bleed, that I must be funded by my parents, and that I should go back to my country. I knew I shouldn’t care, but I did, and it took a couple of months to build a digital immune system.

In general, my physical and mental health wasn’t great during the launch. Being in the US meant I didn’t have my healthy routines, including my favorite snacks, familiar local walks, and coffee catch-ups with close friends. I did go to ecstatic dance a couple of times in New York and Austin, but it wasn’t the same as having my regular practice in London.

All the traveling also meant I cancelled meaningful annual rituals. Each year, we organize a psilocybin ceremony with my best friends; that didn’t happen (but I did get to organize one for my family). I spent part of my teenage years with a foster family and normally visit my second mom once a year; that also didn’t happen.

I gained weight, my sleep was all over the place, and I even skipped many days of daily journaling – something I hadn’t done in years.

Part of me felt guilty about promoting a book that includes an entire chapter on mindful productivity when clearly I still had lots to learn myself. But I was also incredibly grateful for the tools and mindset I’d developed that kept me from completely burning out, even if this pace wasn’t sustainable long-term.

Then, in July, when I had planned to take a much-needed break, I discovered that the French translation of Tiny Experiments was so bad that I couldn’t bear the idea of putting my name on it. So I ended up spending the entire month translating my own book into French. This didn’t help with my mental health, but it gave me deep appreciation for the craft of a translator.

When life hits the reset button

Fortunately, just when you’re stuck in a rut, life has a way of jolting you awake – even if it’s not how you’d choose to be woken up.

This year, my mom turned 70, and for her birthday she asked that we all go back to Burning Man as a family so they could renew their wedding vows. This was a magical week. Not just the serendipitous encounters, the heart-opening conversations, the art and the music, but having my phone off for an entire week, with no sense of time, waking up and going to bed when my body wanted to, eating when I was hungry and not as a way to cope with stress, and walking, cycling, dancing every day – it healed me deeply.

That is, until the last day, when my dad collapsed in my arms and had to be rushed via helicopter to the hospital in Reno, where he was unconscious for the longest 48 hours of my life.

I wrote about it elsewhere so I won’t repeat it here, but this terrifying experience had the effect of reconnecting me with what truly matters: to share the precious little time we have on this earth with the people we love, to connect with other human beings on this messy journey that is life, and to be as present as possible for each of those beautiful, challenging, magical moments.

The second half of the year was a slow process of rebuilding, reprioritizing, recentering. I decided to let go of two members of the extended Ness Labs team and to invest more in the growth of core team members. We agreed on shared mental models to drive our day-to-day business decisions and built new systems to support these.

In the spirit of learning in public, I also decided to publicly embrace the messiness of the process, letting go of my fear that people wouldn’t trust my expertise if I looked like I was still figuring it out.

When I froze on stage during my TEDx talk in front of 800 people, I decided to share that experience instead of hiding it in shame. The post went somewhat viral and resulted in many new people discovering my work. I also shared screenshots of some of the rude comments and emails I received instead of processing them on my own.

I think this vulnerability played a big part in the growth of the Ness Labs community this year by attracting like-minded people who want to live more openly, honestly, and kindheartedly. *Tiny Experiments *sold more than 60,000 copies in its first six months, and my Instagram account grew from 3,000 to more than 50,000 followers in the past twelve months.

And ultimately, the kind and constructive messages from people of all ages and backgrounds around the world vastly outnumbered the hurtful ones.

Experimenting forward

I write an annual review every single year because looking back helps me move forward. Reflecting on 2025, I see several themes I’d like to keep exploring and trends I’d like to shift.

Professional life – I couldn’t have hoped for more success in this area, but a lot of it was built on sheer effort and willpower, which aren’t sustainable. Moving forward, I’d like to keep building systems with my team and say no more often so I can focus on the projects that can truly have a meaningful impact.

Intellectual life – While I did manage to produce research, my academic work felt very output-oriented: data collection tasks, grant proposals, ethics applications. In 2026, I want more space for reading and thinking. I know how it might sound after the year I’ve had, but I’m also starting to outline my next book, which shows me that I truly love writing (or that I might be a bit crazy, or both).

Spiritual and personal life – Rituals and time in community are crucial to maintaining my physical and mental health. I want to build my life around those foundations, with work fitting around them rather than the other way around.

Lastly, this year made me even more grateful for the amazing people in my life. I’ve been terrible at staying in touch – my WhatsApp is an absolute mess and I’ve been slow to respond or completely missing messages. Thankfully, my friends are wonderful and nobody resented me for not being a great friend this year. If you’re someone I haven’t replied to, please follow up with me; that would be the best holiday gift 🙂

Thank you for reading, and happy new year!