**The Deep End**

If I had to describe 2025 in a single word, it would be *GROWTH*. 2025 was essentially the year I learned to swim by jumping into the deep end without a life vest. It was a year of radical changes, brutal self-reflection, and unexpected discovery. But let’s be real: growth usually hurts. For me, 2025 was a marathon run through a thicket of vocal and health struggles, career pivots, and the heavy weight of the world, all while trying to stay positive and find a version of myself that didn’t feel like it was breaking.

The Voice

As a singer, your voice isn't just a tool; it’s your identity. This year, that identity felt like it was shifting under my feet. Navigating significant vocal changes where my technique (and the very sound of my voice) felt foreign was humbling and, quite frankly, terrifying.

Adding to the technical climb was a physical roadblock: nasal polyps. Nasal polyps significantly impact singing by causing substantial nasal congestion, which alters resonance (making the voice sound "stuffy" or "nasal") and reduces vocal clarity. They can cause chronic inflammation, leading to increased mucus production, vocal fatigue, and difficulty with high notes or maintaining steady tone. The polyps didn’t just change/block my breathing; they remapped the way singing feels. If you know, you know: trying to navigate the passaggio when your whole mechanism feels like a lid was placed on top of it and your breathing feels compromised is like trying to drive a car with a shaky steering wheel. I found myself struggling to sing phrases I once could sing in my sleep. My cords felt as though I was forcing them to do something unnatural, and it felt wrong. I found myself overthinking every note, every pitch, every phrase, and it bred a deep sense of insecurity. I found myself questioning if I still knew how to do the thing I love most.

Now these polyps could be caused by allergies, or they could be caused by a number of other factors. Surgery seems to be the best way to get rid of them, but there’s no guarantee they won’t grow back. In some cases, they grew back after 30 years; in others, after 6 months. It’s a crap-shoot that comes with its own risks, but that I have to consider. However, with two upcoming concerts and a full opera in less than a month’s time, I will need to wait until at least April - but that’s a story for another post.

The Weight of Change

The backdrop of this year was heavy. I navigated a perfect storm of life-altering shifts: I left my job at Apple, a job I loved deeply for eight years, to start a new work-from-home role (this was a grieving process in itself). I felt like getting the SUITable Blog off the ground was often like talking to an empty room, wondering if anyone cared or was actually listening.

Then you throw in all of the political BS that has plagued this nation. As a brown-skinned American citizen, the current political landscape carries an inevitable, visceral fear that is hard to put into words. Add in an unexpected surgery (Appendectomy) which kept me from singing or being able to move much for about 6 weeks. This was certainly a lot to deal with, but in retrospect it led to some good: I finally started taking control of my health, which meant facing the consequences of years of bad decisions head-on. With all of this, there were moments when I felt like I was barely hanging by a thread. The fatigue wasn't just physical; it was a soul-deep mental health strain that felt like an invisible monster was eating away at my life force. It felt like sleep paralysis, only I was fully awake.

Night Hag

*The Nightmare*, by Henry Fuseli (1781) is thought to be one of the classic depictions of sleep paralysis perceived as a demonic visitation. Although what I was experiencing wasn’t quite the same as sleep paralysis, the overwhelming feeling of helplessness and being immobilized by a crushing, invisible force was no different.

The Pivot

Amidst all of the frustration though, a spark appeared. In November, I took on the marketing and PR reels for The Opera Collective’s production of Cavalleria Rusticana/I Pagliacci. This was a big deal, as it was our first fully staged, fully costumed show, and it was a double-bill! It was an immensely ambitious project for our small company, but we had a vision, and we stuck to it. Then something clicked. While I was weaving through the different hurdles life was throwing at me, I found a different kind of power - behind the camera. Capturing the drama, the movement, and the soul of that production lit a fire in me that had long been forgotten. A few years ago, I purchased a used, entry-level DSLR camera from a coworker so that I could do my own headshots. The learning curve was steep, and many times I became discouraged because photos were not coming out as I expected, so the camera took a backseat. For the show, though, I figured I may as well bring it back out and use it to do some social media promo reels. I usually record all of our concerts and events anyways, so why not, right? Well…I wasn’t prepared for what was coming next. Seeing people’s reactions and the success the reels had online, the amount of people that showed up to see the show, and their comments on how much they enjoyed the promotional photos and reels, was the final push I needed to stop "thinking" about my passion for photography and actually come up with a plan of action.

Lens Therapy

I ended 2025 with said plan and a new dream. I would start my own photography business, and build my portfolio by doing headshots for friends, fashion shoots and honing my street photography skills. Working from home, I hardly ever leave my apartment, so going on photo walks through the city seemed like a nice way to get out, breathe some fresh air and get some movement in. Then 2026 started and something unexpected happened: Photography became my lifeline. I started going on hours-long photo walks, regardless of the elements. Raining? 3 hour photo walk through midtown. Snow storm? 5 hour photo walk through Central Park. 2026 NYC Snow-pocalypse only a few weeks later? Walk the Brooklyn Bridge. Piece of cake. I was out there capturing the moment. The photos themselves almost didn’t matter. I chose not to put that kind of pressure on myself. That desire to get the perfect shot simply shrunk until it disappeared. There is something profoundly meditative about street photography; about walking past everyday people or situations and finding a story. Whether you are using a mirrorless camera, a DSLR, or you choose the tactile, slow process of an old-school 35mm film camera, freezing these seemingly banal moments in time gives you a new perspective and forces you to look outside yourself and be present in the moment; particularly at a time when I was inwardly spiraling. Simply put, photography became my therapy.

Choosing Me

I sprung into action and started SUITable Lens photography (@SUITablelens, Suitablelens.com) and my steps already feel lighter. I feel a new energy flowing through my soul - and it’s invigorating! I am finally choosing me. I am taking ownership of my purpose, even if that purpose looks different than it did two years ago. Don’t get me wrong, I am still singing, and will continue to do so as long as I draw breath and the universe allows it; but there’s something different about my purpose now. While I’m a firm believer in the power of Art and sharing your talent with the world, I also firmly believe that you should choose yourself. Nurture your art so that you can enjoy making more of it. Enjoy the process, and the world will share in that joy.

Like a phoenix rising from its ashes, I am stepping into the life I want. Yes, I’ve thrown myself into the deep end without the swimming experience or the floating gear. It’s scary, and I’m still learning how to tread water, but I feel it in my bones: this is the right direction.

2025 took my breath away, literally and figuratively, but it also gave me a new way to see the world. And honestly? The view through the lens has never looked better. - JH

from The Ashes… (Full transparency)

WEBSITES
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from The Ashes… (Full transparency)

WEBSITES—

WEBSITES
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