What A Difference A Year Makes

Hey everyone… long time, no see. Why is it that my best of intentions for writing on my blog seem to come crashing down most of the time? Is it lack of creative spark? Sometimes, but I have a long cache of ideas I want to write about? Is it a lack of collaboration with brands and creators? For sure… that well seems to have dried up for now. But honestly, more than anything, I feel like my words and ideas are unworthy of putting out into the ether right now.

2024 was weirdly a difficult year for me. I mean, nothing tragic occurred… just a series of unfortunate events. Most of the time, I feel bad for feeling bad. I know there are people who have it much worse. But still, it just seems like things have the power to pull me under.

Perimenopause is running over me like a freight train. It’s like my body actually hates me. And to add insult to injury, I’ve been waiting to schedule a hysterectomy since September, but my teacher schedule is causing problems… so the storm rages on.

I’ve had a stupid cough since October that I can’t seem to kick no matter what meds are prescribed. That makes sleep a sometimes sport. Plus, my old lady bladder causes me to pee myself during coughing fits half the time. (Hooray for wearing pads that feel like diapers!)

Teaching is not like it used to be. I don’t know if it’s just because I am now officially one of the “old people” in my school, or if it really is that bad. My students are loud. My students are mean. My students literally make fun of me and ignore me. There is no ambition or spark anymore from my classes. Every day I feel more and more like a forgotten item, lying under the bed among the dust bunnies.

In a lot of ways, I feel forgotten. Social media makes me feel uncool on the daily. It’s like a competition for the same “cool points” that I could never win when I was in school. But in the 2020’s it seems the only way to have relationships is through social media.

I am walking through a period of religious reconstruction and questioning that feels really lonely sometimes. It’s hard to know who to talk to about it. There is a lot of shame being thrown from people I love. I just know where I was is NOT where I want to be, and I don’t know where I’m going.

My husband and I are experiencing the pain and frustration of taking care of aging parents. It’s heartbreaking and hard and makes me absolutely terrified of being old myself.

And then there’s just the nightmare that is America right now. I daily find myself understanding NOTHING, and feeling my heart break a little more.

All of that to say… I’m not okay right now. I feel it in my bones. I can tell through my work and the state of my house. I can see it in every photograph I post.

Recently, I posted a side-by-side of myself from January 2024 vs December 2024. I lamented how much I had changed in just twelve months. The increase of grey hair. The light dimmed in my eyes. The lack of self-care. The sadness in my countenance. The dimming of my fierce unapologetic posture. I can read it on every inch of me. Like someone has taken an eraser and blurred my edges.

Instead of sympathy, most people just wanted to tell me that it was a matter of photo composition. “The first was better because it was a professional photo and the other was a selfie.” “You’re doing fine.” “I think you’re still pretty.” Maybe, but that wasn’t my point.

All I see is how I am fading. And I am angry about it. I miss ME. I miss feeling like me. I miss feeling like people see me and hear me. I miss having something to say.

So this year, I took a picture on January 1. I plan to take a picture in the same outfit at the same place on December 31. I want it to be a way to truly mark the passing of a year. I want to be able to see what the year has wrought.

I hope that the person looking back at me in December is prouder, brighter, fiercer. I hope that the person looking back has taken better care of her body and her heart. I hope her spark has been renewed, that her voice is louder, that her mark is noticeable. I hope she finds her value and her worth.

I promise she still has something important to say. Are you willing to listen?