Blogging was an incredible tool for me back in the day. It was my toolbox, my blank canvas, my portal to the world. It was the perfect artboard for my budding passion for creating, for style, for photography and for words (also entrepreneurialism, which changed my world). Curating and connecting were gifts I accepted and gave with joy.
I guess somewhere along the way I burnt out, as happens to all creatives at one time or another. I felt unfulfilled, or imposed too many unrewarding deadlines on myself, or tried to make it an empire instead of remembering the simple joy of creating.
likely, knowing me, all of the above.
Then life hurtled into a brand new chapter, and marriage, motherhood, new priorities, interests, taste, and goals swept me up and I forgot how much writing was a part of who I am. Fashion blogging became martial arts training (while babywearing!).
Designing bridal wear and spending 10 hours a day at my sewing table became driving to work together to sweat and laugh (and cry a little, on my part) and push ourselves and our community spiritually and physically.
Our life is awesome, and hard, and I'm betting yours is too. I tucked the moments in between into my heart and felt too busy, too full to write them down.
It doesn't take a novel to introduce the next chapter. The chapter is going to be written, if not by you, then someone else.
I firmly believe that the world needs what you are uniquely prepared to give, hungry for the treasures you have to offer. What I have to offer.
Your story, my story - they're being written right now. In spite of ourselves and our self doubts. Those stories are precious. They matter. They can change the world.
So here I am writing again, for myself. In spite of myself.
For the joy of it.
Welcome along for the ride, friend. Your story is precious to me and I'm honored to share.