behind that locked door

April 24, 2026

The second Sunday in March is my favorite day of the year. Maybe not for the full year, to be fair, but it is my favorite day from November to February. I hold the second Sunday in March close to my chest with a desperate, white-knuckled grip. I count down the days. I check and re-check the calendar with a unique blend of fervor and despair. I talk to the pale, vitamin D-deficient girl in the mirror and tell her that she only has to make it 5 more weeks. 4 more weeks. 10 more days! The second Sunday in March, if you’re wondering, is when Daylight Savings Time begins. It’s when we collectively (minus the state of Arizona) agree to shift our clocks and our shared reality in order to feel happiness again. The longer days bring more sunlight and more sunlight brings a reassurance that life may actually be worth living – even though it is still really cold in Michigan on the second Sunday in March.

As the days wax into April, the snow turns to rain, the robins return, and branches begin to bud – slowly at first – then you blink and leaves have appeared as if by magic. The promise of Spring is one of the universal gifts of being alive. It is also the primary support column for my sanity at the start of each calendar year. With the gracious deliverance of Spring comes a renewed desire to create – to put forth something fresh and beautiful like the flora and fauna around me. Unlike the flora and fauna around me, however, I recognize that creativity requires vulnerability. A tree doesn’t have to process its emotions or open the core of itself to critique from strangers on the internet in order to create. But apparently I, as a human, do. And that’s scary as shit.

This fear isn’t new – it’s been a pervasive part of my psyche for a long time and has prevented me not only from sharing creative pursuits, but from beginning them at all. It’s like living behind a locked door with frosted glass panes. I can see the pastel sunset and the dancing interplay of light and shadows, and I can hear the birdsong on the other side. It’ just right beyond my reach. A little too far to grasp and hold in my open hands for others to observe and explore. I know what’s on the other side. If only I could unlock the door.

Oh my god, I have a key. Oh my god, I am the key!

And that’s why I started this blog. That and because I impulsively spent $48 to have the domain name and host this site for a whole year. In any case, this blog is a space to practice both creating and sharing – with the hope that it will get less scary over time. So here’s to my inaugural post and to the vibrant green leaves that are unfurling all around me.

TL;DR – I started this blog as a form of DIY exposure therapy to become more comfortable with vulnerability and get past my artistic imposter syndrome.