Have you ever heard an orchestral melee as the players practice on their own before coordinated tuning? The instrumentalists are probably all playing portions of the same set of music, but at different tempos and times, just trying to hone in on their individual parts. It’s chaotic and nonsense and not particularly pleasant to listen to. That cacophony of sound is what most of this year has felt like for me.

I’m in no rush to get to the end of 2025, but I will admit that it’s been a little bit of a doozy for me, and I think I will be relieved when we finally flip the calendar to a new year. This isn’t an end of the year recap blog post, but it is a mile marker of sorts. I am wildly celebrating that the Lord got me to the end of October, and for you and I to properly celebrate, a bit of context might be needed.

In January, I woke up and realized that although I hadn’t yet slipped into “starving artist” status, I would do so if I didn’t find some supplementary income, and fast. My strings of random income were threadbare in the down seasons of winter and I didn’t have any meaningful amounts of consistent income to rely on. To be clear, I wasn’t totally job-less at that point, but my yoga, writing, art sales and freelance copywriting work just didn’t collectively yield enough to live on. So, while I would’ve liked to maintain a flexible schedule of full-time creative work, I realized the necessity of grinding things out, at least temporarily, so I could continue to pay all of my bills on time.

In February, things started to pick up. I went back to work part time at my old marketing job and picked up shifts at a local consignment shop. In March, I opened my third art show and began doing social media for my aunt who is a fashion designer. In April, wedding season started for the florist that I freelance for. In June, the yoga studio I taught at was sold to a friend, and in addition to picking up some more classes, by the end of summer I was also doing social media for the studio. In July, my debut book of poetry was published and I celebrated its launch while planning for 2-3 regional book tour events each month for the fall. In August two orchestras (one of which is a professional, paid gig) started rehearsals again and yoga classes at the university rec center also picked back up. In that time, nothing came off of my schedule; I just kept adding things.

This fall, I’ve regularly worked 1-5 different jobs per day and most weeks had to manage 8-10 different roles/responsibilities per week. I do not say that as a flex (nor a suggestion for others to take up), but as the reason behind my anxious insanity this year. I stumbled from September into October like a zombie, and I’m crawling from October into November feeling mentally, emotionally and physically spent.

On a daily basis I’ve had to focus REALLY hard on staying on top of my color-coded to-do list. It has been very difficult for me to hear an orchestrated masterpiece out of the noise of busyness—I was too focused on not failing myself (or others) to really pay attention to how my individual lines of music might fit within a greater score. At other times of life, I have not-so-humbly cheered my own abilities and survivor mindset through a similar chaotic spin of too many things on my schedule. I refused to carve out any margin for rest if it could be filled with “productivity” and I scoffed at the people who couldn’t keep up with my ridiculous pace of activity.

Thankfully, though I still have apparently not learned how to say “no” to opportunities that aren’t my best “yes,” I have learned to prioritize (and protect) regular moments of silence and solitude, not as avoidances techniques, but as vital practices for a healthy life. In music, the rests are just as powerful as the notes on a sheet of music, and this musical metaphor has been very relevant in my life this past year. Making sure that I had moments of pause to spend time with loved ones, go to a workout class, attend Sunday church services, read great books, work on art pieces (for fun), breathe in the beauty of nature and/or just lie on the floor and contemplate my ceiling, really helped me to reengage in the music of my life with a sharper focus and more joy. Despite the utter exhaustion of my body and mind, I am not feeling spiritually dry in this season, which has made a huge difference in my capacity to push through.

I primarily credit this growth with a strong Christian faith and some healthy habits I honed in my 20s. But also, I’m just getting older and wiser and hopefully better at navigating the crescendos of life without becoming totally overwhelmed. I’m more grounded in my identity and more aware of my limitations. I’m able to let go of things that don’t serve me and invest in challenging tasks and activities that stimulate my mind—and have benefitted from both practices teaching me humility.

I’m happy to report that some things are coming off of my schedule in the coming weeks and I am so looking forward to a slower cadence. But that doesn’t mean I won’t be busy. It’s just that the things that will keep my schedule full will be less work-related. And, I’m still anticipating plenty of room for growth, particularly as I continue to make literal music by playing the violin—the activity that has humbled me more than anything else I’ve chosen to do in life. Read Cadence of Fall | Part II: Making a Joyful Noise for the rest of that story (coming soon).

Soli deo Gloria.