A Year of Creativity, Risks, and Failure
2024 was a year of embracing creativity, taking risks, and learning from failure.
I ran into a colleague at a conference in November. We met years ago in a funder-grantee relationship—one of the first I learned to navigate during my tenure in my last salaried role. It had been over a year since we’ve talked.
Unexpectedly, she mingled among the crowd as I walked around with my camera to snap photos of the gathering. She made her way in front of my lens, modeling a look of surprise.
“I thought you were a lawyer! What are you doing here, taking pictures?” She asked.
“Oh, no, I’ve never been a lawyer. Thank god. But I’ve always been an artist!” I shared.
Different variations of “I am an artist” had come out of my mouth many times before 2024 started. Sharing this fact echoed freshly 18-year-old me, who proudly declared that I was going to art school. Many responses included the infamous question, “What will you do for money after graduation?”
“I’m a photographer and writer and decided to dedicate this past year to creativity,” I continued.
I deviated from whatever path made sense for a former Executive Director. I focused on producing less, thinking more, and birthing ideas typically designed to fall apart. Over the past 12 months, I had to trust the process, learn to let go and become intimately familiar with rest.
I boasted to colleagues about starting a consulting business as I transitioned out of my non-profit leadership role at the end of 2023. However, I knew consulting was only meant to keep the lights on; focusing on creativity was meant to help me heal. As this past year went on, creativity became a more significant part of my story after leaving my job to recover from burnout.
I hoped creativity would be the path that brought me back to myself. There were months when I lacked self-confidence and the ability to reassure myself that I made the right decision. I second-guessed every decision, not for diligence, but to find excuses for not trusting myself. It didn’t matter what evidence lay before me; I was exhausted from the jump, and the bully in my head was relentless.
In 2024, I got out of bed on the days that it felt impossible. Some days, I couldn’t get up. Instead, I stayed and journaled to remain motivated—writing, collaging, anything that kept my brain going and nurtured my soul.
I have to admit: I set myself up for failure last year. The risk of taking this year-long sabbatical was a test to see how I’d treat myself when I could not reach my goals. This wasn’t intentional, but I couldn’t stop doing it.
I wanted to explore every idea that sprung from my overeager brain. Never mind the limited time outside of working and parenting. Never mind the limited energy.
There were smaller goals that were attainable, reasonable, and beneficial for long-term plans. By December 31, 2024, I still haven't met most of them.
Five years ago, that would have meant that I failed.
In 2025, it means that I haven’t given up on trying. Being a step closer than when I started is progress. Expanding and building upon ideas is progress. Listening to my body when it tells me to slow down, and rest is a sign of progress.
You wouldn’t know it, but I accomplished more than I set out to achieve.
This year is ending in another season of grief, and for once, I am not inclined to look away from it.
New Essay
My last essay of 2024 is the first in an ongoing series about my creative journey: On Crafting a Creative Life.
Writing Prompts for 2025
My dear friend and co-conspirator Rivka Yeker shared 12 prompts for 2025. These prompts are a great way to get creative juices flowing, especially for folks who want to reignite their creativity this year.
Check out the list of prompts on their Substack.
We’d love to know if you plan to participate in any prompts! Share your responses by emailing info@treehouseannex.com or tag @treehouseannex and @rivka.yeker on Instagram.
Rivka is also raising funds for their friend’s family in Sudan; please support the GoFundMe if you can contribute.