2022 Year in Review

If I’m honest, this year was a doozy. A lot did and didn’t happen. My life changed in big ways and with that, my daily rhythms and priorities did, too. It seems I have much to say, so let’s jump right into it!

JANUARY —

As I flip through my journal entries from the year, I see the heading, “Hopes and intentions for 2022,” with nothing written underneath it. Sounds about right, as I start off the year with Covid in Minnesota. I can’t remember a time I slept as much as I did then. Because of this, my visit is much longer than I intend. Much of it feels like a mess. Some feels really nice, like taking my parents’ dog Mya on long snowy walks and having a whiskey neat while sitting around the fireplace with my parents.

When I finally get back to Brooklyn, I’m in that January slog. I walk endlessly, reveling in the frigid air, spiderwebs of tree branches, and cool winter light. I love how the crisp air feels on my rosy cheeks and how warm my torso is from the exertion. I loop around Prospect Park more times than I can count and listen to countless podcasts and a few books (Crying in H Mart being the standout).

This month is the first time I feel tired of my aloneness. Much could be said on this, but suffice it to say, what for so long felt like an empowering journey and like a deep-dive into self-knowing and love, plateaued. I start to see how my gravitation toward aloneness is a form of self protection.

FEBRUARY —

My life changed over night this month. This is when I first meet, and then bring home, Joey. I know pretty quickly when I arrive at this Pennsylvanian farm that this puppy is going to be mine. I interacted with his mom and her gentle, calm demeanor told me much of what I needed to know. When I held Joey, he nestled into my lap for a long time and I made the decision right then and there. He comes home with me February 15.

In the midst of this, I’m back in the rhythms of school and assignments. It’s my final semester and I don’t feel any sort of sentimentality. I’m just ready to be done. I experience the deep heartache and grief of an ending friendship. I also experience the resolve and peace of finally letting it go.

MARCH —

Puppy ownership takes over my life. I struggle. Hard. I feel a loss of independence and freedom. I feel a startling dissonance with the, “A dog is such a great companion!” and instead experience my aloneness anew. Not only am I overwhelmed by all the responsibilities falling on me, but also in experiencing most everything — his milestones, quirks, the anxieties, to name a few — on my own. I cry a lot.

APRIL —

I reach a tipping point. I go from barely managing to not. My program is in its final weeks and I can’t focus for the life of me. I feel the pang of more shifting friendships. I google, “Is it normal to get depressed after getting a dog?” a lot. Fun fact! Turns out, it can most certainly happen.

I surprise myself and ask for help. I turn to my nearest and dearest at school and they show up for me. I host a sleepover and feel cared for. I alert my professors that I’m having a hard time and they’re incredibly gracious. My mom comes for a visit (her first since I moved to New York!) and it’s wonderful. I bring her to Prospect Park and we go sailing on the Hudson. We spend a lot of time cooking. I pick up therapy again. I make two unexpected new friends and it kind of changes everything.

Spring is springing and it’s beautiful.

MAY —

Perhaps, reader, you thought this month might be a turning point in my depression and anxiety. I’m sad to say, it is in fact, not. It’s a big month — I graduate with my Masters of Architecture! A dear, dear friend of mine gets married! I crash and burn. My assignments are turned in haphazardly and I don’t present my thesis. I attend my commencement ceremony, have celebratory dinners with my friends, eat the eats and drink the drinks, and quite honestly — feel next to nothing. I do get a haircut I love and wear a really great pale green suit to my graduation, though.

I begin to study astrology more intently. Of all the self-knowing/personality/this-is-how-I-show-up-in-the-world resources I’ve studied, this one resonates the most. It becomes a guiding, meditative practice I engage with weekly.

JUNE —

I flee New York. And I think “flee” is the proper verb, as I really do get out as soon as I am able. I spend the month (and nearly the entire summer, it turns out) in Minnesota. I’m still not sure if I ran away from a place/situation in avoidance or answer an intense disquiet the best way I can at the time. Maybe both!

It’s a healing month. My friend Tanya makes the drive with Joey and I. We stop along the way and get ample time by the water (romping through the dunes by Lake Michigan being my highlight). When we arrive, my folks have just moved into a new home in Lake City. I throw myself into house projects, go on endless walks with the dogs, and explore this new-to-us town. My college friends all happen to have the same weekend free so we head to northern Minnesota and it’s lovely.

I notice that this is when something shifts in me. I bond with Joey more fully and I start to welcome the changes he has made in my life verses fight against them. I feel myself unfurling.

JULY —

I embrace color. I am wearing bright greens, reds, and blues. Yellow! I spend so much time in and by the water. We visit the lake cabin I grew up going to and I see how much Joey loves water. He plays endlessly along the shore line and is introduced to boat life. I lay on the dock late at night and look at the stars. I begin swimming laps at the public pool and this becomes its own form of meditation. I learn how to sail on the Mississippi River. I lose track of the various ways something can be said on a cover letter. I begin to loath cover letters.

AUGUST —

I drive back to New York mid-month and cry a lot. I am not at all looking forward to going back. Such a reaction is new, surprising, and disorienting. Ever since moving to New York three years before, I had never tired of the city. The revolt startles me and I wonder painstakingly what to do about it (spoiler: I just feel into it).

I notice a newfound energy for my apartment space. I find myself gravitating toward deep cleaning projects. I go through and organize all of my belongings. I donate clothes and shoes. I realize it’s time to to educate myself on money. I realize I have a scarcity mindset around it and that there is personally much for me to unravel. I feel empowered as I learn more about HSA’s, investing, and my spending mentality. I watch the TV series A League of Their Own and talk about it constantly. It’s my favorite show of the year.

SEPTEMBER —

I turn 32 and I remember the sky is startling blue and the air cold for the first time. I photograph six weddings and its busy. My relationship with my neighbors upstairs deepens (they, too, have a goldendoodle) and it is a gift I’m still giving thanks for.

I focus on the word “generosity” this month and it stays with me through the end of the year. I extend it wherever I can and see it come back to me in really lifegiving ways. I meditate nearly every morning and my body starts to crave the rhythm. I’m not sure when exactly, but the rattling discontentment I had felt with New York quiets. Perhaps it’s something within me or the fact that summer gives way to autumn, I’m still not sure (I’ll let you know when I do).

OCTOBER —

This is the first time I write in my journal that I think the fog is lifting. I decide I want to spend more time expanding my cooking. I add New York Times Cooking to my subscription and make things like fried plantains, kimchi dumpling soup, and many variations of butternut squash. It’s incredibly satisfying. I rent out a studio space in Williamsburg and take self-portraits for the first time since 2017. It feels so completely and wholly good. I can’t believe how different the woman looking back at me is. I completely redo this website you’ve found yourself on. I taste the best croissant I’ve ever had. Joey and I are in Prospect Park constantly and I discover new corners each time. I now love it just as much as he does.

NOVEMBER —

I feel happy and it’s feels exhilarating. I take a figure drawing class. I get more tattoos. I discover my now-favorite neighborhood café. I have late-into-the-night conversations with a couple of dear friends. I book a last-minute elopement at the Brooklyn courthouse on 11.11 and it’s my favorite gig of the year. I wrap on photographing weddings for 2022 and head upstate to Hudson for a few days. I stay in the country and nearly cry as I watch the sunrise from the porch and revel in the palpable silence. I am proud of myself for naming and sticking to a firm boundary related to a possible job. Joey becomes a beloved regular at the wine shop down the street and they know us by name.

I start to feel some distance from the depression that had so intensely clouded my mind. I feel immensely proud of myself for weathering such a heavy number of months. I feel stronger and now know the proper tools to care for myself. This is my favorite month of the year.

DECEMBER —

My mom returns for another visit. She reminds me that tourist attractions can be delightful. We see a Broadway show, visit the Rockefeller tree, and marvel at all the holiday decorations along 5th Avenue. We eat well, this café in SoHo being a highlight. I visit Minnesota briefly and it’s a wintery snow globe the entire time. My mom and I make our annual holiday cookies and listen to our favorite Christmas album.

I spend the last two weeks of the year turning inward. I draft up vision boards, write countless pages, record voice notes, and study the astrological calendar for the upcoming year. I note how differently I feel now compared to last winter. I start photographing the sky at dusk each evening and am awed by the varying hues night-to-night.

My next post will be dedicated to 2023 and where I plan to focus my attention, my intentions, and hopes for the upcoming year. It’ll also touch on what beliefs and habits I hope to leave behind. I’d love for you to subscribe and follow along!