2023-4: My richest years so far

As a natural journaller and reflector, I’ve enjoyed end of year reflecting for a good while now.

I’ve switched between setting goals and looking forward, and focusing more on reflection and taking a more laid back approach with goal-setting.

Where I’m at with this stuff right now is that there is a happy medium to be found for us all, between reflection and goal-setting, and exactly where that lies is different for each of us and, indeed, different at any given moment in time.

Here’s a previous end-of-year riff I recorded:

https://pod.link/indiewriter/episode/16fbe115447146014f0a7d7c6a42e118

I want to note here that last year was a write-off for me. If I was judging it on accomplishments, I’d score pretty darn close to zero. I’d give myself a 2 at best, and even that’d be pushing it.

This time last year, I remember printing a document to help me reflect on and summarise my year (the one I mention in the recording above) and, after several months of deep pain and depression, the last thing I wanted to do was bring my awareness to my lack of achievement.

I find myself thinking of the song, I Need A Doctor (Eminem & Dr. Dre), with that heartbeat monitor slowly beep, beep, beeeeping and getting ever so close to petering out completely.

~

DARKNESS

I came as close to death as I would ever wish to. As I’ve recounted to those in my closest circles since, I would not wish those months upon my worst enemy.

In my deepest, darkest moments, helpless and alone and broken, I reached inside me for something, anything. It wasn’t a cry nor a plea, it was the last ember of hope remaining in my body.

I recall driving to my brother’s place after he’d invited me to stay for a couple of days. (As I write this, this was actually last year but it feels like it could’ve been just this Summer gone, when I was still coming out of said depression). I recall somehow packing a bag of my things for the overnight stay, continuing to wear that brave face I’d continued to wear for so long. The one I wore even in the midst of my inner turmoil, putting others and their needs ahead of my own and suffering… silently.

I got into that car and feeling empty, numb, and helpless, I found myself crying out. I couldn’t possibly remember exactly the words I uttered, but my best shot at remembering is as follows…

“God, I don’t want to end this, I don’t want to give up, please, please, please let me feel better. I don’t want to end this, Lord. Please, help me get better.”

~

LIGHT

How fitting it is that Don’t Stop Believin’ (Journey) has been playing and was fading out as I finished writing this sentence.

Sharing my personal experience, it felt like God wrapped his arm around me and held me close as if to say, I am here.

I look back on the music I’ve been listening to this last year, and so much of it is imbued with the pain and the joy, the chaos and the hope, that I have ridden.

I don’t where I’d be without my music. It touches my soul in a way that can’t be described with words alone. It brings healing to my psyche and nervous system.

I believe that’s what writing is. What music and what art is. What self expression is.

A space for us to hold ourselves.

Where it feels safe to be ourselves and to be free, resting in our inner world, pouring out our goals and dreams and beliefs and traumas into whichever outlet we so desire.

And if art is a space for us to hold ourselves in, well, therapy is a space for us to be held by another.

It takes intention, openness, perhaps helplessness, and some good fortune to find the right sort of person for us.

And for me that person, who I am convinced was Heaven sent, is Jacky.

Week by week, I would make the half hour walk, or hop on a bus from town, or just drive and see Jacky.

When I was speaking to no one else, Jacky was there.

When my trust was at an all time low, Jacky was there.

When the wolves were all around me, Jacky was there.

When the Devil was trying to take from me the last morsels of my soul, Jacky was there.

Whilst we might not share the same beliefs about politics and God (Jacky listened to a lot of my takes and we had our own moments of disagreement for sure), our conversations were always calm, gentle, loving and without judgement.

Jacky, practising her craft for more than 30 years and, she estimates, on more than 1,000 patients has a minimal online presence. Her clients come from referrals.

Indeed, I was referred to her by a therapist I saw who I later got back to and could no longer fit me into her schedule.

Years 2023 and 2024 for me have been about discovering God again, through music snd through Church and through Jacky.

2025 is, I pray, going to be a beautiful year.

I know more dark times lie ahead. But, I also know that there will be plenty of light.

But, having been through this personal hell of mine that I’ve been through, and with that behind me, the depth of my inner resources and resilience are, I believe, like nothing else I have experienced in me.

From darkness to light, and wherever you might be right now, because I know each of us wrestles wit( those two things each day, I pray that you can give yourself the space to reflect and to feel and to acknowledge all that has passed for you this year, even if you haven’t tangibly done many things.

Whilst it’s one of my least productive years to date, I believe 2024 and 2025 have been, without any doubt, my richest years yet.

From my heart to yours, I hope 2025 is a rich one for us all — richer than all in Fort Knox.

Thank you for reading this far,

Jas

~

This one is for Jacky <3 The therapist who, like an angel sent from above, helped bring me back to life. Our impromptu duet of Like a Prayer during that last session of ours is a memory I’ll hold in my body until forever.