2024 was a wash. At least, that’s what I’ve been saying. 

It was a year that started heavy and ended hopeful. But the 12 months from start to finish were brutal at times. 

A lot shifted from 2023 to 2024. And then again from 2024 to 2025. 

As much as I’m not a New Year resolution kind of girl, I can appreciate a reset and a fresh start. And I always start each year with hope for hope’s sake. Hope for a win. Hope for some kind of life-altering, exciting change. 

I have personally judged a time frame in my life by how much I want to (or actually do) post about it on social media. Of course, when things are great, it’s fun to post. Why wouldn’t I want to share my best and favorite experiences…not to brag, but to remember these moments fondly, and to share with friends and family who live at a distance. 

But my “gap” was not intentional in the way the “kids” post these days. 

It seems more common to find Gen Z’ers post “stories”, a feature that allows users to share photos and videos that disappear after 24 hours, vs. posts, a photo of video that lives more permanently on a user’s profile. “Pics or it didn’t happen” came onto the scene in 2007, as the rise of social media began – the year I graduated college and the year Gen Z babies were still a twinkle in their parents’ eyes.  We started off this social media journey proving something.

However, unlike my Gen Z fam, my social media gap was intentional. I couldn’t bring myself to share how my life was going because I didn’t like how it was going. Even when good things happened (and there were a lot of good things), the overall sentiment was still, “how did I end up here?”

I’d like to be my old self again
but I’m still trying to find it

Taylor Swift. “All Too Well (10 minute version)”

The gap, hole, and desolation felt empty, cold, and void. I spent a lot of time alone, a lot of time in silence, a lot of time wrestling. Alone, silent, and wrestling were the 3 places I didn’t want to venture – but it was exactly where I needed to be. 

As I come out of the dark, cold, chilling cave, I’m coming out stronger, wiser, and grittier – scars and all. “The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.”– Joseph Campbell

Yesterday was the feast of St. Thomas. Jesus rises out of the cave (I know it’s a tomb, but go with me here) – also scarred. The wounds didn’t go away after a horrific, tragic, unjust death. If even Jesus, resurrected from the dead, is walking around with visible wounds, I guess there is probably something to be said for our wounds as well – visible and invisible. 

Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.”

John 20:28

My gap is an invisible scar – and calling it out is bringing it to light, like Jesus did to Thomas. Giving the scars meaning and purpose, value and worth. 

I can still hear the cautionary voice in the train station in London loudly proclaiming, “Mind the Gap”. Every train station calls out this directive to make sure you “watch your step” as we say here in America. 

But I think we need to note from our friends across the pond and be mindful of the gap. 

Where’s your gap?