It seems during the last couple of years that a reflection of the year coming to a close has been potentially the only thing keeping my sanity. Adulting is no joke. The end of 2023 had me begging for a new year, only to get served up a very smelly shit sandwich in 2024. Call me once bitten, twice shy. I’m not begging for 2025. I have lost faith in the future. I have, however, gained enough wisdom to understand that shit sandwiches are also often severed with delicious cookies or chips, you just have to look at the whole plate. Read More on Substack
