It’s been almost an entire year since I’ve written anything for myself.
Those words have been rolling around in my mind an awful lot lately. After that, silence.
When I joined the Imbibe Magazine team in April 2015, everything came to a screeching halt. The long days scrambling for freelance work shuttered. The efforts to develop my voice and a strong personal brand and direction halted. I took some time to recalibrate.
Despite having (finally) moved into our own place here in Chicago, traveling for work and diving head-first into serious nesting behaviors on the home front, it’s been a quiet year, focused mostly on work and trying to find my footing within the new role. It hasn’t been easy. To be honest, I spent most of the last year feeling like I’m drowning; Struggling to see the bigger picture, to stay afloat and inspired while I push out ideas and content and then start from square one immediately thereafter. The internet is one big snake eating its own tail, and that’s exhausting.
I’ve spent a lot of time feeling empty and aimless.
An unseasonably warm February day prompted us to walk around Millennium Park this past weekend. I’ve been completely obsessed with the dead foliage of the midwest this year–captivated by how beautiful these plants are when winter reduces them to twigs. Walking through fields and forests is like a study in texture. 
Each withered stem has an architecture and structure more glorious than the last, and I just can’t get enough.
It might sound morbid, this love and admiration for decay. But I guess that’s where my head has been this winter. Desperately searching for beauty and passion again in a landscape that hasn’t afforded me many chances for creativity and self-expression.
I’m about to enter the last month of my roaring twenties (and roaring they were). I’m not feeling nostalgic or annoyed, nor am I dreading the milestone. I was born to be in my thirties. To have formal education out of the way and the apprenticeships over with, so I can start to spread my wings and make real moves. To make bold statements that come about because of years of experience. To feel comfortable in my thoughts and beliefs (and maybe my own skin? Tall order, I know). To finally have a platform to set new goals and chase them down with a confident fervor. I’m excited.
I’m also excited to emerge from this winter. This year of silence and emptiness. I don’t want to just focus on cranking out the next recipe post. I want to get back to feeling inspired. Finding inspiration in unexpected places and running with it.
Can I shake this emptiness I’ve been enveloped within for so long and get back to myself again? I am hopeful. I desperately want something to feel passionate about again. Any pet project, or hobby, or cause to fight for. I want to get my voice back, but I don’t know what to say. That’s a tough place to be in. In the meantime, I have these bouquets of dead Midwestern flowers to remind me that even when you feel just like a shell, there’s still potential for beauty and inspiration.
