It’s 6am on Christmas morning. I’m sitting by the Christmas tree, surrounded by the dogs, a mug of hot coffee by my side. The candles are burning, the twinkle lights are twinkling, and I’m finally taking the time to look back on the year and reflect.
On the outside, things look similar to last year. We are still living in the same place, I have the same job, same husband, almost the same pets (we added Arnie, because that’s what we do), I’m still sober (almost two years!), I still walk and write a lot. Nobody in our family or inner circle died, and we’re fortunate that we didn’t have any major upheaval this year.
On the inside, however, things have changed a lot! The biggest one first: my mental health has improved beyond recognition. Being in my second year of sobriety and regular therapy have largely eliminated my anxiety, perimenopause is alleviating PMDD significantly, and walking daily is doing wonders for my depression.
Physically I’m also in much better shape than last year: my chronic hip bursitis has disappeared, the mystery foot pain I had for months is gone, and best of all: my breathing has improved so much that I haven’t taken my daily inhaler in over three weeks.
In late 2017, when my husband became so sick that we were fearing the worst, I started wheezing. My breath was laboured and rattling so loudly, it once caused a hiking companion to look around nervously, thinking a bear was behind us. At the slightest exertion I got winded, and when I tried to talk during walks I could barely get the words out. I underwent test after test, but everything came back negative or undetermined. The tentative diagnosis my doctor settled on was exercise-induced asthma, which didn’t quite feel right but was the only thing we could come up with. He prescribed an inhaler I should use twice a day, I bought three air purifiers for our house, and it got better.
Still, the diagnosis never seemed to fit. I’ve had multiple experiences of my body making me physically ill when I was mentally depleted and stressed out, and this seemed like another sign my body was sending me. There were several stressors in my life since late 2017 in addition to my husband’s illness (which turned out to be Lyme disease), and the way I dealt with them was by drinking. I drank more than ever before, which was terrible for my mental health, making me more anxious and depressed than ever before. I’m convinced my wheezy breathing was the physical manifestation of all that booze.
I was drowning.
Over the last three years I have been on a healing journey regarding my mental health. I’ve been on antidepressants since the fall of 2012, but did nothing else to address or support my mental health. In 2020 I finally started therapy, which was long overdue and has been of tremendous help. Quitting drinking in late December of 2021 was another important step on the road to healing, and this year I’ve prioritized moving my body and being in nature, which has given me a lot of peace.
2023 didn’t exactly turn out as we hoped (we have yet to start building our house), but it was a good year. Take a walk down memory lane with me if you want, and let’s take a look back:
January
We had a ton of snow, and I went out snowshoeing, crosscountry skiing, and hiking at any possible opportunity. Two babies came into the world: our second grand baby, Alice, and my book, Everything is Broken and Completely Fine. I was interviewed about it (here and here), and had overall one of the best Januarys in history.
February
February continued much like January had been, still with lots of ice and snow, winter sports and needing ice cleats for my boots for weeks. Depite them, I slipped and fell several times, as did many of the patients we saw that winter. I worked a lot, which would become a theme for the year.
March
The snow started to melt, our first calves were born, and a hint of spring was in the air! I also ordered my first scrub jumpsuit, which was the beginning of a beautiful love story (I have three now). I joined a writing group for the first time in my life and started to dapple in poetry.
April
My dad had a health scare and was in the hospital for a while, so I flew to Germany to be with my parents. He was doing a lot better by the time I got there and has recovered well. It was great to see them and to spend time with my family. My niece Larissa and I are two peas in a pod, and being with her always feels like being with a younger, much more confident version of myself.
When I came home, a surprise waited for me:
May
I had my hair cut even shorter (the first chop happened in December) into a French bob. It’s always funny to me how people react when we do something that’s societally considered as taking away from attractiveness. I could tell that many people thought it was a mistake, because long hair is considered beautiful, and shorter hair less so. I refuse to play the game. The way we look is the least interesting thing about us, and I for one have spent more time than I ever wanted to on agonizing how I look. That’s why I won’t get Botox or dye my hair or worry about how my body jiggles. Do I sometimes look at my wrinkles and miss my younger, unlined skin? Of course I do, I’m human. But then I remember that men are celebrated for aging, that they “get better with age” and their grey hair is considered to look distinguished instead of making them look old, and I remind myself that I am as worthy of aging in peace as men are.
The below video demonstrates the double standard perfectly. These men look ridiculous with the photoshop that is considered necessary for their female counterparts. If it’s ridiculous for men, it should be for women.
June
Summer was in full swing in June, and I did all the summer things I love doing: quading with my husband, reading in my hammock, swimming and kayaking by myself. I spend a lot of free time alone, and I love it that way. I wasted years feeling embarrassed to do stuff by myself, worried that other people might think I have no friends. I was in denial about who I am - an introvert who loves being by herself - and tried to be someone I thought I should be. If you want to find happiness you have to accept your true self. Living authentically is the only way to heal, and self acceptance is the path to a life of harmony and peace.
July
All our foals were born, we finished the road and driveway at our new property, and I still harboured hope that we’d start building our house (that hope would be dashed the following month). It was hot hot hot, and I spent more time on or in the water and the rest of it in the air-conditioned hospital.
August
August was a bad month. The wildfires were raging, I had a panic attack at work, and I was close to burnout again. We realized that we wouldn’t be able to start building until next spring, and I was descending into an anxiety spiral about the state of the world. I hit the brakes hard, took a step back from extra responsibilities at work and prioritized looking after my mental health. Part of that was starting to write my next book! I also put together a video of Arnie’s first summer:
September
I started rewatching Gilmore Girls, and to my suprise my husband joined me! It became a nightly routine that I treasured. He joined me in something else as well - he stopped drinking halfway through the month. Three months later, he’s still not drinking, and he feels great.
October
I fully embraced everything fall, which included hosting Friendsgiving (in Canada Thanksgiving is celebrated in October), cozy fall outfits, and best of all: a hot springs vacation with my friends through the Kootenays. We soaked, ate, oohed and aahed at the fall foliage, and stopped at every giftshop we laied eyes on. It was perfect.
November
Rich got urosepsis, which was scary as hell since sepsis can kill. We caught it in time, thanks to my incredible co-workers who first convinced me to bring him to the ER (he didn’t want to go) and then treated him with compassion, kindness, and lifesaving antibiotics.
December
I used to love December as a child, and then hated it as an adult. It’s only in the last few years that I’ve learnt to take what I like about it (the tree, candles, coziness, all the baked goods), and leave the rest. This has been one of the most restful, peaceful Christmasses ever, because my husband and I celebrated it exactly the way we wanted to: by spending time with each other, talking to our loved ones, and putting no pressure or expectations on the holiday whatsoever. We rested, read, puzzled, ate, watched Christmas shows, hung out with the dogs, and reflected together on the year that’s almost over and look ahead to the year that’s around the corner. We have an abundance of gratitude in our hearts.
Happy New Year to you! I appreciate you reading and following along.
💝Miriam