I come to you today mostly unscripted. The last letter of the year brings a certain air of... grandiosity to it, doesn’t it? Like it should mean something — can’t we say that about everything? It has to be big, moving. It would feel wrong to leave you alone when we’re about to welcome another year.
Last year ended with an attempt to embrace the fear that comes with being alive. Have I ever told you I don’t read my own writing often? Or is that obvious, given the typos? I take so much time in the craft but I don’t visit my pieces, even in times of struggle when, perhaps, they could help. Not necessarily solve my issues but at least remind me that it doesn’t last forever.
I really liked my writing in that letter, I’m proud of it. I try not to feel shame by saying I’m proud of myself, but it isn’t easy. These days I don’t feel very confident in my ability to write, again. It’s either too lengthy or poetic, or not pretty enough; too vague or too personal, boring or unstructured. I’ll find another flaw if I try hard enough. I find that a lot of what we go through in our lives moves like the ocean, like a tide, even us. People are tiny oceans. We have shorelines, limits, boundaries — to cross, to retreat from, to hold, to expand.
I made a lot of unhelpful, less than right decisions this year. I was very mean in a lot of ways. Arguments, misunderstandings, people hurting each other, they’re all part of life, and that knowledge does not make any of it feel fairer. You know, I had left 2022 by saying ‘2023, you scare me to the bone, please be kinder then you ought to be.’, and it’s funny to look back and have to admit this year was hell. It broke me in more ways than I expected. Challenging but insanely freeing. Terrifying yet comforting.
The fear persists. On a video of a doctor talking about why should a person seek mental health help, therapy or psychotherapy, why it’s worth it, if change is worth it, he says the following,
Their therapist told them “I didn’t promise you a rose garden.” I didn’t promise you some utopia on the other side of your symptoms, it’s just reality. It’s not like if you do these things the partner of your dreams will land on your lap or the thing you’ve always wanted to hear from your parents, they’ll magically say it to you. There’s only the possibility of something that is not now, the possibility of not suffering. But there’s still pain.
He ends the video on one note of resolute belief, of trust in what’s to come, what’s next.
We don’t know necessarily what’s on the other side, but it’s got to be better than where we’re at right now.
It was so strange to me: a professional, based in medicine, has to justify reaching out for help in…. hope, faith. What’s the difference between one or the other anyway? He could’ve thrown out numbers, statistics, clear and irrefutable proof that it’s worth to change, that this place where you stand, hurting, is worth moving away from, that the effort not to stay in pain is fruitful. Instead there’s this… heartfelt confession — there will be apples and pears and tangerines and grapes, a whole garden waiting for you, but the fruits could be ripe, putrid, bitter, plump, acid, sweet, ashy, generous, succulent, nourishing, non-existent.
What’s in the other side of pain? Who knows. We like to believe it’s less pain. We hope. You could get more specific, but perhaps you’ll be limiting your view instead of expanding it. They say clear goals help a steady recovery, but I argue one has to leave room for the unknown, the impossible to plan for, and build the courage? the hope? to not let the intensiveness and vastness hold them too far back. What seems to matter most is moving through the pain, because there’s more elsewhere. There is something else.
I’m not grand but I’m not small either — this is not an attempt to sound pitiful or as some cheap humbleness. I’m trying to do some self reflection, give me a second. I get the impression that the person I express here sounds like someone that reads nonfiction and believes in “becoming the best version of yourself” (got accused of that recently), as if I’m some teacher on wellness. I don’t want to be a preacher or a beacon of anything. Not that anyone said I was. I’m a person. I’m petty, I can get pretty darn proud before I face people with the honesty they deserve, it takes time and courage. I’m lazy, it’s midday and I’m still in my pajamas. I’m very insecure, it feeds a lot of jealousy and envy and misfortune that I have no one or nowhere to point a finger at besides a mirror. I’m unstable. I’m not as reliable as I thought I was, and that makes me ashamed. I can’t always be there, I may be in thought, in soul, I do care and I want to help so badly, but I can’t be the person one relies on relentlessly. I can’t even rely on myself a lot of times. I wanted to be a rock, but I have the consistence of sand. I can’t be always present, and it’s a realisation that took years to own up to.
Not knowing who you are isn’t just not knowing what you believe in, what makes up your soul, what you like and don’t like, it also comes with not recognizing your shortcomings, or maybe seeing them as double, only identifying those and not the rest, your qualities, the features of you that are loveable — all of you. It gives me the impression that I can’t fully own up to my mistakes, even if I could drown in guilt and shame, it feels foreign, seeing how I act, what I say, even when I recognize it comes from the heart, it is still strange to be called ‘thoughtful’ or ‘sweet’. It’s this lack of belief in… yourself. When you do, when you try, when really frightening feelings come around, there’s a great wave of confusion, and under all, fear. It’s unfamiliar because you are a stranger to yourself, a bit of a mystery. I catch my doubts and want to hurry up and bury them alive, for what? To stay in panic? That’s a death too painful, murdering your curiosity. I want to believe in myself. I want to hold the questions, hear what they have to say, explore not run away. It doesn’t have to mean they make sense, that they are real outside of my head. The other day just seeing someone miss someone else knocked me out of my orbit, it brought so much sadness. It made me feel weak. How wonderful is it to love someone to the point you miss them, am I loved like this? Why can’t I? I want this. Why would this hurt me? It has nothing to do with me. But do I wish it did? Do I want it too? I want something like this. Do I? What does that look like? Don’t you have it around you already? Can’t you believe it? Why can’t you believe in the love you have? Why must you chase it away? For what? Are you picturing something perfect again? Flawless? Something that you know might not exist? Why not trust and believe what you have today instead? A lot of questions, not as many answers. Am I sensible or am I just weak? What are you looking for? Satisfaction? Peace? Love? Keeping yourself busy so you don’t try to heal?
I despise how petulant I sound. It’s very shameful, to admit that you get constantly chipped away by casual stuff. Am I not strong enough for this life? When will I be able to handle it? When will it scare everyone away? When will I stop questioning if love has to be earned? It feels as if I only know how to break. I don’t mean to be like this, but I can’t avoid it, when I do it changes nothing. The pain is still there. We don’t know necessarily what’s on the other side, but it’s got to be better than where we’re at right now. I am sensible and it’s no one’s fault, I made a house out of this sadness but I don’t want it to be my home. We don’t know necessarily what’s on the other side, but it’s got to be better than where we’re at right now. Open the door, let the shame sit outside. Open the windows, let the cold wind come in and dry your tears. Look outside, at the trees, naked in this weather, the harsh ice, the bugs all gone, barely any flowers around. We don’t know necessarily what’s on the other side, but it’s got to be better than where we’re at right now. It hasn’t crossed my mind that sensibility and resilience can come hand in hand. That to continue living through pain, the kind thrown carelessly, inherited or made by your own hand, is an act of resistance, power. Have I spent this entire time thinking that I can’t say I’m a sensible person without feeling as if that is my greatest weakness and fault? I think I have, deep within. It isn’t an excuse or explanation of why I feel all that I feel, but I’ve been using it as a shield nonetheless, when it could be our biggest proof of strength.
To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow, said Audrey Hepburn. I keep thinking on what to wish for 2024, what to expect, what to want. First, I thought ‘good things’, but what is '“good” anyway? So many of our blessings come disguised as awful curses. So then I thought ‘solace’, ‘comfort’, the world embracing me like a strong wind that pushes me forward, instead of blowing in my face and making me reapply chapstick on my lips. It didn’t feel true enough, realistic. I’ve landed on one last word: everything.
Obviously I’m not a masochist yet I want to make a new belief for myself, for us. Suffer what you must and hold close to your heart the hope that it won’t be this way forever. That it will always be worth it to get through the end of it, for there will be another smile, a soothing cry, a hug, your bed waiting for you, the sunshine peeking from a cloud, tea that warms your soul, the unexpected kindness of a stranger, a nice book, excitement for something or someone. There will be pain, you know it, I know it. We cannot make pain go away. We don’t know necessarily what’s on the other side, let’s not let the fear of more pain hold us back from living a life we want, we deserve. We don’t know necessarily what’s on the other side but let’s live it fully. We can’t make our life out of avoiding things anyway.
If you’ve made it this far, congratulations. Pat yourself on the back, be proud of how far you’ve come. Give yourself some love. Thank you for your time, if you read all this I take it that, in a way, you believe in me. I believe in you too. I root for your happiness and I trust your strength. May we continue to help each other. If it gets unbearable remember you can rest to collect yourself. Trust that love won’t run away — in fact, it’s waiting for you right outside the door. On the other side.
Thank you for reading Delicate all throughout 2023, if you’re a new or an old reader, I love you and appreciate you with my whole heart. You have made me braver, more artist than I ever believed I could be. Life is fuller when you share its findings. May all your wishes come true and let me hear about them.
For a while I thought about making the typical ‘of the week’ rundown but since it’s the end of a year, I opted to give you a couple of lovely things that have been around for more than a couple of weeks.
Music wise, Sabrina Carpenter and Reneé Rapp were fundamental to my 2023, their albums helped me embrace each and every emotion — still do! Olivia Rodrigo is a close third, solely for 3 tracks in her newest album (‘Making the Bed’, ‘The Grudge’ and ‘Lacy’). Laufey, Boygenius and Ichiko Aoba are also worth mentioning. Oh and the fictional band, Daisy Jones and the Six, and the inspiration behind it, Fleetwood Mac (some tracks, I haven’t heard all of their stuff… yet. But hearing ‘Everywhere’ never fails to put a smile on my face).
The Hedgehog’s Dilemma. I’m rarely indifferent, I cry easily, I get impacted by most things in this life, yada yada. This video comes back to me time and time again. It makes sense. The comment section makes the message a lot more heartfelt.
IZZI LEE’s art has done such a wonderful impact in my life, there is a rawness to her comics, they leave me speechless and have helped me in ways I struggle to exactly describe. They make you feel less lonely. She faces it all, the similar thoughts you’ve had, she may not have the answer you’re looking for, but it’s through her own exploration you too find a light in the dark.
Media wise, this was a pretty low year for me. I got into anime, sort of… Have been shamelessly obsessed with ‘The Apothecary Diaries’, admitting it here feels strange, I don’t think you’d expect me to enjoy cartoons, am I childish? But hey, I am a hopeless romantic, and I love a fun time. I also started ‘Haikyu’ recently and I cry in every episode (from JOY!).
At the top of my head, movie-wise, ‘Past Lives’ and ‘Little Women’ were great watches, but only one of those is from 2023. Oh, Barbie was great.
I got a Kobo this year and for all it’s lack in features (night mode) or speed, the battery life is amazing. I love that thing to shreds.
The most impactful book I read was without a shadow of doubt ‘Heaven’s Official’s Blessings’, which took me months but if you’re a lover of fantasy, high stakes, suffering and love, go for it, you have my word, it’s worth it. This year I also really enjoyed ‘Strike the Zither’, ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ and ‘Daisy Jones and The Six’.
My favourite poem is still ‘Tomorrow Is A Place’ by Sanna Wanni.
Lastly, I really grew to love dried apples. I’m going to experiment making some soon :)
Thank you. Delicate will return.
happy new year, ines. i hope 2024 is so full of light for you, and that whatever you find on the other side, it will be good to you ♡
happy (late) new year! i'm so glad to have read your work throughout 2023, and i can't wait to see where this year takes you.