If anyone is out there following me, I'm sorry you likely did not get what you were hoping or expecting to receive when following (or just now stumbling onto) this little nook of the interwebs. I've been spotty in presence, and lacking in dazzling content lately. Creating is hard, yes, and grief is hard, yes, and the holidays are crazy with insane work while living alone and processing all of my various battles at the moment, yes, but still. I feel an obligation to be better here for my own sake at the very least, but out of kindness to anyone following, a responsibility there as well.
As 2022 comes to a fleeting, final breath, I am like most others in reflection as the long, dark hours slip by on clock faces. This was intended to be the baby step for writing my own cookbook. This was supposed to encourage me to get out and shoot more, to explore more, and to document the progress I made in my creative growth. It now serves as a sad reminder that I've lost nearly a year of my life (that's a generous under-estimation) to depression.
I try to reframe constantly, working to shift my understanding of value and worth from output and product to process and journey. A lot of the work I've been doing in my condo lately is the ugly stuff - it does not make for flashy, fun social media content. It is adding silicone around the new flooring and fixtures. It is patching the wall from the brutal electrician. It is keeping the house clean and a fridge with a modicum of balanced foods in it. It is continuing to stay on top of laundry and work and make my bed every morning; it is laundering and ironing my sheets every two weeks. It smells like ubiquitous candles that I am not afraid to burn and sounds like the song my Spotify wrapped has told me is my most played track for the last year (the same track for the last three years).
I surely have lost friends. I have made at least a singular new one. I have failed to communicate and fallen into the depths of digital clutter.... a hoarder of bytes and bits. I have returns I can no longer return, and back pains I can never quite seem to avoid or ease throughout the day.
But I have learned to lament in worship. Oh! To worship again at the feet of the Lord. I miss the days when I had more consistent praise, but I am grateful to be back in an obedient heart and humbly approach the throne to worship once again.
I have discovered new music, experienced new places with friends, and trained a whole darn dog to be pretty darn good. I have blessed my family with hundreds of beautiful photos of my niece, my sweet and hopefully-not-kindred-but-will-be-echoes-of-each-other beautiful niece. I redid my own cabinets! They aren't great but they are there and they work and they are white and a soft blue grey on the inside and they are clean. There is a loose vision.
My life is still so unknown to me. I struggle with feeling forsaken and wallowing in pity most days, so I try not to think about it or God more often than I care to admit. It has made for an uncomfortable ease of breezing through the motions without consideration.
I want to be more, friend. I want to be connected and encouraging and loving and creative. I want to be vulnerable and joyful and a delight to those around me. I want so much more that seems forever so out of reach. I am tired, and looking forward to rest.
Therefore you should not fear; you are worth more than many sparrows.