“Start Where You Are”
- jesskaps
- Jan 4
- 3 min read
Saturday, January 03, 2026 @ 19:40 EST
“Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.”
It will be enough.
Happy New Year, 2026 edition.
It is tough to find much to be bloody happy about it if I am being real.
I spent a considerable amount of time in recent weeks looking back on photographic memories from this past year, and I think of how an average onlooker might think I had a spectacular year. Resplendent images of sunrises and sunsets and blooming flowers and glowing mountains and sparkling white sands and leaves of the brightest yellows and reds and oranges and the softest loveliest snow falling and the crescent moon and stars and freaking AURORA BOREALIS and glistening hot springs and smiling friends and selfies and music events and kitty cats and singing birds and oryx and rivers and oceans and botanical gardens and markets and ballet class and tap dance and laughter, so much laughter… yet all this is only telling one side of the story.
Because two things can be true at once. Photos of a picturesque sunset captured behind a fence and from my very first day of ballet class in February were also from the same day I attended the wake of one of my dear clients who unexpectedly passed at the young age of just 30 years. I still think of her often. I was bawling my eyes out that very day and many days surrounding. Photographs of coloring book pages of Billie Eilish represent her memory as well.
Screenshots of me and my friend smiling and laughing— none of them actual recent photos. I had not seen her in over 5 years. She passed in August due to cancer. I wanted the images to stay recent so I could find them easily and look at them often and they would not get lost in my sea of iPhone photos. Torn between smiling at the memories and crying at the reality that she is really gone. And I will never hear her voice or laugh again. I would never get the chance to see her upon my return to New England. I never got the chance to tell her.
Countless photos of a grey cat, in various poses, in so many locations and different light settings. And with her human companion, engaging in mutual frivolity. Calm. Peace. Tranquility. The science and health benefits of kitty purrs for both parties. A thirteen year old cat who was so full of love… who breathed her last breath. Purred her last purr. Cuddled with her human one last time, one chilly fall morning late November in New England.
Photos with family, smiling faces, none of which tell the entire story.
Now three days into 2026. I sit here questioning so much. Simultaneously grateful for that which I have yet screaming for the burdens placed upon me. More like within me. Crawling beneath my skin like parasites having taken over paradise.
It is too much. Mostly mental. Emotional. Carried over into the physical. The overwhelm. I ask for it all to end lately. Often. I ask for answers that never come. I demand responses I want but know I will never receive.
I acknowledge this is not an ideal way for one year to end, nor is it an ideal way for a new year to commence.
I do what I can with what I have. It hardly feels like enough.
I have become accustomed to personalized rituals and cleansing and time off and long drives and warm air and hot springs and reading and journaling. Renewal. Rebirth. Rejuvenation.
Reading and journaling did happen at least. A short drive. Not much time off but some. Family time during both the Christmas and New Year holiday which has not happened since 2020. And coloring, drawing, doodling, and dance as small forms of temporary serenity amidst the chaos in my brain, being, and environs.
My hope by the end of this year is for some semblance of clarity and stability. For answers I have been seeking since the beginning of last year. Even if I do not like them. For hope. For home. ✨
You are enough.
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