As 2025 drew to a close, I couldn’t help but be grateful. My word for that year was Hope. While I didn’t have much of that in 2025, I’m starting to see it again. If you go back another year, the actual reason for Hope being my word, I was diagnosed with MCAS (Mast Cell Activation Syndrome).

While a devastatingly hard thing to deal with on a daily basis, it finally explained all my symptoms and years of going to sooo many doctors, trying to resolve my seemingly unresolvable health issues. I have a team of doctors I consult with almost weekly. The list of things I’ve had to give up to keep living is long. Food. Socializing. Outdoor activities I love.

The hope for all of these to return is there.

At the beginning of last year, I found out that my body was overrun by parasites and mold. And, then exactly one year ago, I sustained an injury that kept me in bed for the better part of four months and then off and on for many more, still causing issues to this day. During this time I had a month long sinus infection, all the while my husband was demoing our basement to rid our house of mold and I hid my pounding head under a pillow trying to escape the noise and barely left the house, let alone bed for months. When crying with a friend during this time about the loss of a dear friend and that it’s been the hardest year of my life, she stepped back, looked at me and said, “That’s saying something.” She then proceeded to tell me she was here for me. I then cried for all sorts of other reasons.

Exhausted does not even begin to describe how I have felt at times.

I lost count of how many times this year I got asked with looks of horror and astonishment what was wrong with me and/or if I had cancer. Other people just didn’t even recognize me. I recently saw pictures of myself at a friends house from the last 20 years, and I did not even recognize that person… I even had to ask who was in the photo…

Most of 2025 was the Chinese year of the Snake.

Shedding my skin, a third of my body weight. My clothes hung off me and I rid myself of half my wardrobe as my clothes hung off my shoulders. Once we could turn the heat off, I spent the majority of the next 5 months cleaning every single inch and absolutely everything in our house and studio, all the while running on fumes, pushing to get things cleaned so we could get the heating ducts cleaned before it got too cold. Success. Sort of. We found out we had asbestos and couldn’t turn the heat on until it was abated. Luckily it’s Laramie and we were able to borrow enough portable heaters to keep us going and are now very happy to have heat.

Finding my footing again.

I noticed curls in my hair the other day. Something that’s been missing for years. Talking to a friend recently, he told me that I look better than I have in decades. Let that sink in. Decades. He said my eyes look looked better, the dark circles were gone, there was color in my face and then I was no longer grey. The color in my face. That’s what I keep starting at in the mirror, confused at my reflection… wondering what on earth was wrong with me now. Wow. So, that’s what I’m supposed to look like.

While I still have more to detox and recovery can be slow and disruptive at times, I am closing the year of the snake with hope. Hope that my body will once again allow me to eat a variety of food without adverse reactions. Hope that a mold free house will give me a place to rest. Hope that my body will once again enjoy movement. Hope that I feel like seeing friends more than just running into them at the grocery store. Hope that I feel like working in my art studio more than just a few weeks out of the year. The list of hopes is long. Some days they feel unattainable, as for years how I felt was not up to me. I was overrun with toxins. Finding out about mold toxicity and how it affects your health explains so much of my life. I can trace these symptoms back to my childhood living in this house. I told a friend recently that if I’d been in Vegas at the end of 2024 and had to bet on my life extending into 2026, I wouldn’t have placed that bet. And yet, here I am, going into 2026 alive. It still surprises me that I feel as good as I do, which honestly still leaves a lot to be desired.

And, it’s that desire that’s kept me going. There is so much artwork I want to create. It is my lifeline. Without my art, I would not be me. It’s what brings me joy. I worked every job I ever had to sustain myself as an artist. I never gave up. While some years have been more creative than others, the end goal was always art. I chose jobs that allowed flexibility not security. Art comes first. That being said, going into 2026, I’m taking an online clay class so I can pace myself more easily than in person right now. I’ve wondered for years how people get so much done…oh yeah, they haven’t been dealing with lifelong mold toxicity.

Yet, I still hang on to hope. Exhibiting my artwork on a national level has been life changing. Watching the northern lights in my pajamas, reminiscent of going to the drive-in as a child and making art work to remind myself of this joy were the highlights. I have craved feeling grounded and centered for so long… I am starting to find some of that peace. It still catches me off guard, like the color in my cheeks. That color that I hope to find more of in my studio, in life.