I noticed there’s still traffic coming here… to this blog I started in a very different chapter of my life. Back when I thought maybe it could be a side-gig, a little extra income. After, in 2021, I read somewhere that if you find a niche and write well enough, someone might throw ads on your site and you just… write.

That was the plan.

And then before I even found a niche, my personal life blew up. And this blog ended up fireman-carrying me through all of it…denial, anger, bargaining… all the way into healing parts of myself I didn’t even know were injured.

At some point last fall, something shifted. Not fear exactly, but a kind of awareness. Like…Oh, words actually do things. They land places. They stick. And I started feeling more intentional about what I was putting out.

My writing changed. Less processing, more gratitude.

People responded to that, which was cool, but also weirdly confusing. Because at the same time, I started feeling like I didn’t have anything of value to say unless I was working through something. And once I wasn’t in that space anymore, I caught myself writing what basically amounted to weekend recaps, and… I don’t know. Who actually cares what I did last weekend?

So I stopped.

Not dramatically. Just quietly drifted away from this space. From writing in general, honestly.

And I do miss it. But being present in my life, not living in the past, not spinning out into the future, doesn’t always hand you a clean narrative to write about. Sometimes it’s just… living.

And yet, people are still wandering into this space.

I’ve been sitting with that. It’s not a feeling of pressure, just like… it means something to my heart. Like when you go back and reread something because it once made you feel less alone and you’re hoping it still does.

So here’s something from today. Not a life update. Just where I’m at:

On Friday night we went to a hardcore metal show.

Which is not typically where you’d expect to find two women who absolutely considered bringing protective stones in their pockets “just in case.” (We didn’t. But spiritually, we did.)

Our kiddo was the lead singer. Full black-and-red hair, screaming into a mic like he’s been doing it for decades instead of being a teenager who still occasionally leaves dishes in the sink.

A week ago he didn’t want us there at all. Which felt a little disappointing, but also, right. No one wants their parentals hovering at the edge of their identity-formation like “We love this for you!!!”

But a few days before the show he changed his mind. Didn’t make a big deal out of it. Just gave us the green light.

So we went and did the whole “act normal” thing in the back. Which is harder than it sounds when your kiddo is on stage and you’re trying not to beam and embarrass him.

After their set he came straight up to us, hugged us, and asked if we got video so he could send it to his friends.

And I don’t know, something about that landed in a way I’m still sitting with.

Like maybe the work isn’t inserting yourself into everything. Maybe it’s to step back when you’re supposed to and trust that if the door opens, it’s real.

In other news, I filed for a business license for my candle thing, which feels both official and slightly suspicious, like… are we sure I’m qualified to be in charge of things that light on fire?

I’ve been on a tear with it lately. Just following ideas as they show up.

What does courage smell like?
What does hope smell like?
What does it smell like when you decide to keep going anyway?

I made a Frankenstein’s creature-inspired candle called It’s Alive! , which should tell you everything you need to know about my current state of mind.

Also a summertime deep woods blend called Walden, another called Watershed, Moonbath, Energy Check, Hold Fast… it’s a whole thing.

It’s not even about the candles, really. It’s the act of making something and watching it become real. That part feels important right now.

Today we’re celebrating someone we love and I’ve been up prepping apple bourbon ribs like it’s my job, which honestly I would accept as a full-time career if someone offered it to me.

There’s something about doing something slow and intentional for people you care about. It hits different than anything performative.

Jen has turned our yard into what I can only describe as a magical ecosystem. I keep waiting for a small woodland creature to start paying rent.

Watching her learn plants and talk about soil like it’s a language has been one of my favorite things lately.

And then, completely out of nowhere, I found out my seniors nominated me to maybe speak at graduation.

That one got me.

Not in a big outward way. Just a few quiet tears…sitting alone at my desk during lunch, thinking about my own high school self and how wildly different everything feels now.

I don’t take that lightly. I don’t even really know what to do with it yet.

I just know it matters.

And here’s the thing I keep circling back to, whether I’m writing or not:

This life is kind of unbelievable.

Not perfect. Not easy. Not always anything close to what I expected.

But still…pretty fucking unbelievable.

And I catch myself wanting to downplay that, like I need to balance it out or make it more palatable or less shiny.

But I’m trying not to do that as much.

Because noticing that your life is good, in real and specific ways, isn’t bragging. It’s just paying attention.

So if you ended up here today for whatever reason, habit, curiosity, something unnamed, I hope you’ve got at least one small thing in your life right now that feels real in that way.

That’s it.

I’ll write when I feel like I have something worth saying again.

I’m still around. Just not in the same place all the time.