The blanket of snow that has covered Aberdeenshire since the start of the year still continues to grow – the end not yet in sight. While I have experienced periods of being snowed in the years since we moved here, this is nothing like it. Life has come to a halt, and apart from the long walk we took on Sunday, I haven’t left my street since the end of December. In some ways it’s a romantic experience, having no other choice than slowing down, spending my days in and around our home, making comfort foods and hot drinks to stay warm. But in all honesty, after a week, this experience has lost a bit of its charm.

Over the past couple of days, I took some time to reflect on 2025. The past year has been one of the rougher ones in my life, and on the whole, I’m glad to have seen the last of it. But I don’t want to – and can not – move into the new year without finding some of the quiet beauty that happened alongside the sorrow. For the one doesn’t exist without the other.

The most significant thing that happened to me in the past year, was breaking out of a long and deep depression. While I was fully aware that I wasn’t doing well, I didn’t realise how dark it had become in my mind. And now that I have returned to a brighter version of myself, I have a new appreciation for how beautiful life can be. But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, because I soon found that there was nearly nothing left of what once was my life.

Depression is not just having sombre thoughts, it’s a difficulty with taking care of yourself. Some days, all I could do was eat – but barely enough to stay alive. When all your energy goes to surviving, it isn’t strange that over time, everything that defines who you are slowly falls away. The things you once loved to do, the people you enjoyed spending time with, the work that brought you so much joy. But there isn’t any energy to built something new.

That’s how I found myself, in the middle of 2025: on the sofa in my cottage in Scotland – a dream come true – but without any idea of who I was any more, and with a body that refused to do hardly anything other than being horizontal. Not what you imagine what life at 36 looks like. So I started building my life almost from scratch.

In the process, I found some parts of myself I didn’t even know I had lost. To name a few: my love for musical theatre, being outdoors, photography as an art form instead of just a means to document life, connecting with people, swimming, writing and creating new recipes. I also learned that I need an art form that allows me to create with my hands, and that my desire to read is hindered by my inability to hold a book. So my first mission in 2026 is to find a new eReader.

While I’m writing this, I realise this might not have been what you expected to find. Perhaps you were hoping for some small things of beauty like exploring a new city, growing my favourite flowers, or reading a lovely book – all of which did happen in the past year. But when you’ve been here for a while, you learn that that’s not what Between the Dots is about. This space is for discussing the heavier themes, and if that’s not for you, that’s OK. There are so many spaces you can find a home. But I’m not going to hide behind superficial joys, or pretend the past year resembled anything like a highlight reel – because it didn’t. It was rough. And we’re allowed to say these things out loud. Let’s hope 2026 brings a softer year.