Closing out the year with care
Welcome to Through Lines! Living creatively, thinking imaginatively, practicing the craft of storytelling, and uncovering your invisible strings
2024 is over—quickly, it’s time to reflect!
By the very end of December, I’m sure most people are completely done with the endless deluge of articles, posts, ads, books, advice, etc. on how to “close out 2024” and “welcome 2025: your best year yet!”
I get it—this content is overwhelming, exhausting, and while seemingly uplifting, adds a tremendous amount of pressure to the idea that we should be spending our time thoroughly examining every moment of the past year while also writing entire tomes of intention for the new year we’re ringing in.
But I’m such a sucker for these parallel messages: “rest and ruminate, then plan and strategize!” And there are so many tips and pieces of advice and prompts and journaling ideas and ritual concepts.
I want to know them all. I want to do them all.
I have journals and special pens and new apps and followed social media accounts that only want to tell me how I can make myself better this next year.
I think this probably relates to a lovely internal blend of perfectionism, proclivity to overachieve, and an underlying belief that none of my accomplishments are valid or worthy. That’s okay! My morning meditation mantra told me that I’m a work in progress and that I’ll surely overcome (or at least temper) these internal blockers very soon. Any day now.
To me, the most important thing during this time of year is that I don’t consume this advice, these calls for self-improvement and goal making, with the fervent and thoughtless desperation of my teenage and college years—when I was repulsed by every aspect of myself so deeply, that any shift in the opposite direction, away from my self, had to be a good one.
I aim to be careful, considerate, and intentional in seeking out what resonates, what makes me feel optimistic and hopeful (rather than anxious or guilty). I take rests from all my “reflective resting.” I close social media once I’ve been sitting for too long. I make lists and set them aside, so I don’t have every action item staring at me accusingly on my desk. I tend not to make any hasty purchases that revolve around self-improvement, but I wait to see if I actually need something once I begin a new routine.
I try to go with love now. I try to go lightly.
2024 was not a year of going lightly for me. 2024 was a year of heart heaviness. It was a tempest year, a year of traversing through a fairy tale forest at night, a year that Taylor Swift could write a banger about.
Even while I take in the stream of perspectives on how to do 2025 differently, I’m approaching this transition in a way that feels true to me—and that honors 2024. I’m taking it gently and tenderly, with the nurturing care I give to my children and small woodland creatures. With love.
A tried-and-true form of resetting and resolution for me are mantras, so here are some for you:
At the end of the year, I hope you know that you are amazing.
You are resilient and strong.
You make the world brighter and more beautiful.
You are composed of the scattered remains of ancient celestial corpses. Every atom in your bones was forged in the violent death throes of massive stars, their final screams echoing across the void. Your flesh is built from the cosmic graveyard, your blood flows with the essence of long-dead suns, that dutiful internal organ beating out its rhythm is a magical mechanical timepiece crafted from elements that witnessed the birth and death of galaxies.
Don’t ever forget it.
Glimmers to share
✨The Great Dickens Fair—an immersive Christmas festival set in Victorian London with performances, costumes, food, shopping, and more, all true to the era of Charles Dickens. My favorite part was the purple top hat my oldest bought, second to the live reading of Edgar Allan Poe’s poems (and the ensuing lesson on Poe I gave my oldest, while he wore said top hat).
✨I finally saw Challengers, and even though the rest of the world already knows, I’ll contribute my new, but pure, love for this 2024 movie.
✨Montague Workshop is the inspiring work of author, illustrator, and storyteller Brad Montague—not only is his art beautiful for children, it’s impactful for adults.
About Me
I’m Christie, and I’m a story person. I work as a children’s literary & illustration agent. I’m a writer, with published essays and a novel + short stories in the works. I’m a former elementary school teacher and current homeschooling mom. I also do data analysis (stories abound!). Some of my enthusiasms are baking, urban walks, forest hikes, gothic poetry, horror movies, Taylor Swift, and cats. And books - books are my passion and stories are my mission.
Through Lines is here to examine the craft of storytelling, explore publishing industry insights, celebrate the joy of learning, and discover the magic hiding in ordinary moments.