Glitter and Sequins

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I’m sitting at my desk in what feels like the first time in weeks. Am I rusty in the fingers? Yes. But do I have things to get off my chest? Also, yes. 

I’m back, baby.

2025; here, and then gone. Or, at least, that has been my experience this year. I type this on the eve of January 1, 2026. I woke this morning and tried to think about what these last twelve months have meant to me, and I came up with little. Maybe it’s because I’m too used to measuring myself in terms of progress. My ballet background often makes me measure my life in tangible improvements. If there’s no proof of growth, then I’ve made no headway. But 2025 wasn’t a total loss. I made new friends. I lost friends. I walked away from a narcissistic familial relationship that cost me my sanity for the majority of my young adult life. I gained clarity in my writing journey and in my vocation. I successfully hosted a women’s creative retreat. But 2025 was indeed a year of loss. And yes, it certainly had its good moments, but the circumstances of my own evolvement in my faith also sucked me dry of any venom still left in my veins from past cycles of negative belief. It was a year of purging, realigning, undoing, and renegotiating with myself. Coming under full submission to God. Grieving pieces of myself that needed to break off and fall to the earth. 

Much of this holiday season, I’ve been eh-eh. I’m dealing with the tail end of a virus that has knocked me on my ass. Much to my disappointment, I’ve had to cancel Christmas and New Year’s plans with family and friends. I’ve had to sit in bed for hours, nursing a runny nose and sore throat. And I’ve had time to think. There is no avoiding yourself when dealing with the sickies. There’s only introspection. And FOMO. Lots of FOMO.

We all have our patterns, our rhythms that make it difficult for us to get off the hamster wheel. For me, I’ve noticed a cyclical trend of consistent visibility for a few months, followed by a season of concealment. This has impacted my relationship with creating content on social media on and off for several years. I post steadily for a while, then pull away to protect my mental health. From what, I’m not exactly sure. Overexposure? Being cringy? BEING EXTRA?! Probably all of the above. My creativity tends to thrive on privacy, which I deeply value. Knowing that certain aspects of my life are just for me to enjoy, to learn from, and to grieve keeps my writing engine purring. Then, once I’ve learned the lesson, I can emerge from my chrysalis with a clear mind and a changed heart. I can show up fully. Why would anyone want to see me when I’m being challenged? When I feel as if I’m failing?

During college, I had a bracelet that I wore every day to remind myself of my value and my worth; something I needed to see every day at one of the darkest times in my life. It was a simple turquoise band, with a single word written on it. SHINE, in big bold letters. I wore this bracelet well into my twenties. I glanced at it often when I needed to access my confidence in a quick moment before an audition.

Since before I was even old enough to say the word sequins, I’ve often reached for anything with a little sparkle. Whether it be makeup, clothes, shoes, or dancing under disco lights, I’m drawn to shiny things like a moth to a flame. I come alive in sunlight. Just ask my husband. Anytime we’re out shopping, I’ll see the most obnoxious bling-iest thing in the store, and immediately run up to it with a gasp. Oh my gosh, I often say. This is amazing. I would’ve been obsessed with this as a kid. 

This little girl is still clinging to her gemstones and glitter. But it’s difficult to give ourselves room to sparkle in dark environments. After all, light exposes. But I feel as if it’s what I’ve been put on this earth to do; to radiate. To permit other young women to “own their extra.” To shine with everything inside of themselves, and to never dull their expression for fear of what it might expose in someone else. 

I once considered it discernment to retreat into my shell. Hunkering down for a bit is an essential part of my creative process, but for months on end? The past year felt like a practice of finality in this cycle. I knew that I needed the fall and winter seasons to narrow my focus on a few projects. And so, my engagement online dropped. My social plans dipped. My time in the gym, and my time spent at home with my dog, or out on

walks with him, spiked. It felt like a preparation; a final act of commemorating this cycle, knowing that the next few years will require all of my shine. And boy, am I ready to get back into the game of sparkle.

So— my new years resolution? To let the great purge of 2025 serve its purpose. For my need for privacy to now be matched by a desire to shine wildly. To give it all I have. 2026 is sure to be filled with lots of expansion, and I know this only because of the dreams and visions I’ve had over the past few months. Lots of new stories for readers. Lots of new creative ideas. I’m open to it all. Perhaps my spirit knew this even before I was aware of it, and that’s why I’ve actively leaned into rest for the past few months. Who knows…

Either way, I’ve had more than enough time to snuggle under blankets at home. It’s time to get in the car and to put my foot to the pedal. Time to throw on my favorite pair of shades and approach the end of one of the longest tunnels I’ve had to fumble my way through.

Happy New Year to you, reader. May this remind you to operate with your full light if that’s the season you’re approaching. I’ll meet you where the sun kisses your face.

Love, Mary