Oh boy, was it a tough year!
2023 started with a deep feeling of unhappiness. Something unfathomable, since I am the luckiest woman in the world. I have two wonderful kids—neurodivergent like me, so not without challenges, but real pearls of human beings—and a husband so great people envy me. We own a beautiful house we’ve remade from floor to ceiling. I have my personal artistic space in my gigantic Artelier. We don’t have money problems. My health is not top notch, but I am not in any danger whatsoever (same old same old chronic illness).
And yet my mental health went down the drain. For a few months, I told myself that it would pass, like everything. Maybe it was a seasonal mood that I would grow out of. After all, I was (and am) so so lucky. In the summer, when it became such a struggle that I would feel on the brink of tears multiple times a day, I finally went to see a doctor.
If you knew me, you’d know that I am afraid of doctors and therapists. As a neurodivergent (and undiagnosed) person, you can maybe imagine how hard it has been throughout my life to be heard. I’ve had doctors doubt me. I’ve had doctors sending me away without any help. I’ve even had doctors saying I was disgusting and made them want to puke because I had a huge abscess on my shoulder, due to my chronic illness. That one was at the top of my reasons of being phobic. Thankfully, the doctor that practices in our street is better and more empathetic, so I have been able to force myself to go.
After six more months, I can say now that my depression is under control. My anxiety too, as they gave me anxiolytics as well.
In that year of poor mental health, I feel like I haven’t done much.
One of the most important things I did was taking care of our house. I’ve made sure that the work we were getting done was done properly. I’ve pushed for our unused garage to be transformed in a guest room (and my husband’s boudoir—where he can paint his figurines and game and have video calls with his friends). I’ve made sure the kids’ bedrooms were as organized and as nice as possible. Most importantly: I’ve totally transformed my Artelier, and even though not everything is finished yet, it is the coziest it has ever been.
I have decorated, for the first time in my life. My walls have always been bare, everywhere I was, except for my childhood bedroom. The impermanence of my living situations always stopped me from trying. And even in my previous married life, I never felt safe enough to decorate the home we had together (this is a whole other horror story that I will probably touch on in the future, just not now).
I haven’t been arting much. I did very few crochet or knitting projects. I drew a little, but not as much as I would have liked. I tried painting and it was not successful—my canvas is still waiting to be re-gessoed and for me to try again to create something I enjoy enough to display in my Artelier. I have not written a single fiction word.
I have been giving a lot of attention to my kids, though. I’ve tried to make them better persons, I’ve pushed them to be more autonomous, and I’ve been trying to keep their morale. I’ve explained again and again why self-care is important. I saw that they’ve been scared by my health and mental health issues, so I’ve been doing my best to put their minds at rest on that front. I’ve tried to make more memories with them. I hope that when they grow up, they remember me fondly and understand me better than they might do now.
One of the highlights of my year was, as usual, my husband. Always there, always supportive and loving. He is always understanding, even with all of my peculiarities. He is my biggest fan, and I am so grateful for him.
I feel like 2023 was a year of reset. It’s taken time, tears and sweat, but in the end I feel like I am stronger now—and more determined than ever to live my best life.
I hope that when I’m on my death bed, I can look back to 2024 and say: “yeah, that was a good year”.
Let’s make it happen!
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