I'd forgotten what 2016 felt like--what it looked like, sounded like.

My recollection was a lot of anger, an unhealthy dose of depression and anxiety.

And, as I scrolled through photos from that year, I began to remember the antidote: all the things that carried me.

The people that held me.

The art that comforted me.

The creation that sustained me.

The love that stayed. (My husband.)

My brother would have been 15 that March. He'd taken his own life 10 months prior. Christmas Eve ended up being the last time that I saw and spoke to my dear Granny, the last time that I felt her warmth and ease.

So much loss.

So much life.

I've learned, ten years later, that I had actually figured it out (without knowing), that I had instinctively reached for beauty while actively drowning in pain.

This is how I survived.

This is how I survive.

***

Note inspired by Mills Baker.