The grind of the service industry isn't glamorous, but it's been funding the quiet return to my sketchbook, finding solace in the amber glow of my apartment after long shifts. My grandmother's calls are the highlight, a reminder of genuine connection amidst the financial pressures and the slow shedding of who I thought I had to be. This year taught me resilience in the quiet moments, and that my own creative space is where I can truly start to build something new.