January 2, 2025
I have a little confession to make… I'm in what they call ‘analysis paralysis’.
Meaning, I'm doing way too much consuming but can't seem to bring myself to do the creating.
December is a month of blissful chaos, which also extends into my content creation with Vlogmas. A time where I turn on the camera daily to truly capture me in all the different roles I've placed myself in.
In the moment, I'm so excited to share, as it's more than just what I do for a living that I'm filming… it's who I am as an actual human on this planet.
However, once it's over… I suddenly feel a bit empty (and maybe exhausted).
The week between Christmas and New Years seems very reflective of how I feel. A little lost, a little tired, and maybe a little restless.
I've been on my phone watching others post about their yearly highlights, but everytime I sit down to reflect on this past year, I feel like my vision is blurry.
Like I can't clearly see what we accomplished this year, even when I know we accomplished much.
So as I skimmed through my photo library and tried to put pieces of my year together, I ended up deleting most of them.
And then I started to panic.
Why was I deleting photos and videos that obviously meant something to me in the moment?
Pictures of cold, calm winter mornings.
Pictures of trilliums blooming in the bushes on our first spring walk to the cabin.
Pictures of sunrises in the barn during lambing season, and pictures of sunsets through the window of my tractor cab.
I was deleting moments that truly define me at my most authentic and most happy.
I love nature.
The consistency of her. The beauty of her. The healing power of her.
Then I finally swiped on a photo, a screenshot of a post Jess wrote this year.
And I stopped deleting.
It's taken me 9 months for this moment to hit me and make sense.
2024 was our year of healing.
I took pictures this year that in the moment, just spoke to me. I didn't take them with the intention of posting or sharing. In fact, immediately after, I likely forgot I even captured the shot.
And after re-reading Jess's post, I now see that I was unintentionally collecting pieces of life (nature) that have been quietly healing my heart.
Reliable beauty that surrounded us in our darkest hours over the last few years.
They say you're never given more than you can handle. And that may be true, but you can sure be given enough to really break you.
The last few years have eroded me in ways I didn't see in the moment, thankfully.
2024, ironically was a year of building and starting new things.
Maybe a metaphor for how we were feeling.
The new shed build had been a dream of Mark's and mine since we moved on to this farm 22 years ago.
The online store had been a vision of mine, but built only upon the love and support of this community.
And of course, the final piece of this build is the apartment for Jess.
A place she can call home.
A place where she can begin again.
Because as much as we are rebuilding our lives post cancer, she is the one who lived it.
She is the one who fought it.
She is the one who survived it.
So 2024 may not be most post worthy on our overly constructed social media feeds, but it was perhaps the most important year we didn't know we needed.
It was our year of starting over.
Learning what really matters, and letting go of stuff that doesn't.
Here's to 2025.
My fiftieth year on this rock.
I have no goals, but I do aim for intention.
Intention to make my health a little higher on my priority list.
Intention to create, but not to burnout.
Intention to learn new things, and unlearn others.
Intention to take the pictures in the moment.
Intention to never delete what makes me, me.
Thank you all for being here.
For supporting us with everything we take on, while being the cheering squad we so desperately need.
We love you all,
Happy New Year…
love,
The Brocks.
