The privilege to take some time off at the end of the year comes to me with a bit of guilt, but I’m learning to think about it the way I think about all the smaller quiet parts of writing, the unquantifiable thinking parts between the intense prep work of interviews and outlines and the flow of words once a story finally comes together.

Today I’ve been working on a presentation at my local bilingual library, on “Transgender Experiences: understanding dysphoria.” (If you’re in Oaxaca, come! Otherwise, a recording of the talk will be available for purchase afterward.) I’ve had the outline done for weeks, and today the final form came together in my head, so I’ve been busy expanding the foundation into a handwritten draft, before I turn it into my power point and then my final notes.

This moment, when I can finally start to see where I’m going more clearly, and the work I need to do to get between here and there finds its way to the page from my hands, there’s such a magic to it. When I find the right metaphor, weave my way through a challenging subject, figure out the perfect approach to help someone understand a concept in their own body, it reminds me why I love what I do so much.

So this little pocket of slowness, of rest and family and a cozy day in bed (where the new laptop is working so very well), I’m choosing to think of it as those same necessary moments of pensive downtime on a slightly larger scale—on the scale of, say, a business, a new creative venture. I’ve got the prep work done, and the bones laid out mostly in the right order. Which means that flow is just on the other side. With some skillful navigation and space for imagination, I know that this newsletter is on the edge of finding that perfect pace.

I used to run. Before I got COVID the first time and my cardiovascular capacity tanked, before top surgery when I still had to strap on an industrial strength sports bra to do any activity at all, during the early days of the pandemic isolation period, I finally got it together to try a “couch to 5k” style program. I never got to 5k, but I was running uphill 2-3x a week, culminating in a 3k where I ran nonstop all the way into town, something I still find hard to imagine myself doing even after having done it. (New Years resolution: try running again, at least a few times.)

Anyway, there’s this familiar thing that happens when I’m running. Starting sucks. No matter how often I do it and how good at it I get, it sucks. The first 5-10 minutes are the worst. But eventually, even if I can’t sustain it for very long, I hit a stride. I find the right music for how my body is feeling that day and the movements start to come naturally and it just works, at least for a little while. The endorphins hit and the nervous system feels fully integrated with the body it’s flinging around across the road or the sidewalk or the forest path and I stop worrying about twisting my ankle and stop hating the feeling of pushing off the earth and for some fleeting moments things feel right.

I’m strapped in here. I can see the obstacles in the road ahead, the challenges and yes the horrors we will have to face together on this path. And I’m ready. Ready to hold my head high and my pen mighty and to face what’s coming, knowing we have the wind at our backs and history on our side. I hope you’ll join us.

In 2026, I am going to undertake a massive research project to turn patient and provider interviews into actionable guidance for closing care gaps. I’ll keep showing up every Monday with the news and science you need to serve your communities, keep telling stories that matter, keep platforming the voices of providers and researchers doing this work on the ground. I’m going to partner with other creatives, with practitioners, with organizations and sponsors to make some waves.

Together, we're going to prove that independent journalism can be sustainable, that rigorous coverage of LGBTQ+ health isn't a niche concern but critical infrastructure, and that when we show up for each other with evidence and heart and unflinching honesty, we can hold the line together.

Here’s to a liberating new year!

Baxstar Jonmarie Ferguson
Founder, Well Beings News