Things started slipping away as the year came to an end. I found myself anxious and crying frequently without knowing why, and neither exercise nor company brought me relief.
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The days got darker and the walls drew closer as my self-imposed social isolation intensified, but on the other side of that loneliness was also an intense creative force I was determined to put to use.
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In the spirit of Ursula K. Le Guin (“women grow things in the darkness”) I spent the witch month of October in a spiritual and artistic isolation that was only punctured by an esoteric bookclub and frequent visits to upscale workout classes.
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September was about immersing myself in the parks surrounding my home. This connection to myself and nature helped envisioning the positive changes and expansion I wanted to bring about in my life and art.
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My trip to the Ostsee at the beginning of the month was a wonderful and solitary experience that helped me heal from my recent breakup. I realized I also had outgrown a shared workspace I had been part of for many years, and so I resumed to set up my art studio at home instead.
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I was looking at ancient art and new apartments, seeing old friends and visiting my family. My long walks helped connect me with nature and the spiritual world, which I explored for the first time with the help of folk tales.
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In summer I spent of my days in solitude, while trying to reimagine my place in the world. I was willing to let go of everything that would be in the way of that, and got rather trigger-happy in getting rid of places and people that had been weighing me down for quite some time.
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May brought change, colors, and bloom. I was experimenting with new versions of who I wanted to be, while still processing the darkness that had brought me there. And after seven years, I died my hair back to its original dark brown.
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Slowly coming out of my hibernation, April had me reconnecting with nature, colours, and a timid attempt to befriend my feminity. Since the old paradigms I had been operating under couldn’t apply anymore, a long, lonely journey began towards a different way of looking at myself and the world.
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During the snowstorms of early march my relationship finally reached its breaking point. In a haze of sensation, I was only able to extract myself with considerable effort. I fell onto a much-needed ground of meals in bed, my journaling practice, and the longterm friends who had survived that period of my life.
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I was struggling to balance the demands of my professional life and my relationship, which had suffocated me with its dark pull to the point of complete overwhelm. Frequent illnesses, accidents and trips to the emergency room for mysterious problems had started to become a normal part of our lives.
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The romantic rush I usually experience in the winter season had cooled off somewhat during the long, dark month of January. I was deeply immersed in trying to understand myself and what I wanted from my relationships, while being sucked into a highly domestic life that felt more and more like a vortex of intense emotions.
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