The Sky Report // 01
There are very few years I’ve actively clamored to put behind me.
2025 was one of them.
After a promising first half, the back half of the year—despite a few glimmers—nearly took a sista out.
Let’s start with my health.
In 2025, I was hospitalized twice. One stay came unexpectedly just days before my birthday in September. The second, in October, was more planned—but no less heavy. A malignant lymph node had to be removed.
Yes. My cancer returned.
On October 20, the surgeon removed a lymph node the size of a golf ball. The good news? Surgery was enough. No chemotherapy. No radiation. And in early December, my oncologist delivered three of the sweetest words I could hear: NED — no evidence of disease.
The first hospitalization is more complicated. My close friends and family know the details.
Layer all of that onto celebrating my 50th birthday on September 21 (a true glimmer ✨), navigating what is likely menopause (jury’s still out), and trying to make sense of a body and mind that felt unfamiliar most days—and whew. It’s been a year. I’m still searching for my new normal, because I’m hoping where I am right now isn’t it.
Then there was July 14.
The same day I was told my cancer was attempting a comeback, my beloved Metropolitan Club abruptly closed its doors—without warning, and for good. I’d been a member since 2018, and if you know me, you know that place held a special kind of magic and meaning in my life.
Fast forward to November 1. I was still recovering from surgery when I got into the dumbest fender bender imaginable. My #JamilaSkyAfterDark crew (The Glow Collective) will hear that story soon—because it’s far too wonky not to tell—but it’s not quite ready for public consumption.
Through it all, God has been getting me together in ways I couldn’t fully see in real time.
Lessons stacked on lessons.
And yet—in spite of everything—2025 also revealed just how deep and abundant my village is. The love, support, grace, and prayers from my family, friends and colleagues carried me when I was tired, scared, healing, and unsure. A woman couldn’t ask for a better support system, and I’m endlessly grateful.
So with that…
Move over, 2025.
Make room for my new year.
Jamila Sky 
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