I feel like I’ve been so lost in the world of influencers that I forgot about the little perfect niche of a “blogger”. Has everyone traded that title for “content creator” and ditched the words for tiny boxes on an Instagram feed? 

Do people even care to hear your internal thoughts anymore? 

I’m trying to remember a time that I sat and actually read someone’s blog — not a helpful article or a quick tutorial on how to make a spicy margarita — but an actual, beautiful think piece with voice and depth. A blog that made me stop my scroll and say “huh” out loud.

Not implying that all my posts have that emphatic hold. I’m sure if you did a quick skim you’d find fun room round-ups and lifestyle pieces alike, but one thing that I did really love was being able to share my words with you here.

I still get comments on my blog about my boss quitting, with people who found it years later at just the right time. Nothing can trade that feeling. The feeling of someone stumbling upon a post you put up years ago and feeling seen, heard, and loved.

I miss that.

I miss when that mattered, and it wasn’t just about how to show up and out online. 

To be honest — it makes me sad. Not in a crying type of way, but in a deep internalized, I’m-not-sure-if-I’m-ready-to-fully-let-this-part-of-my-life-go type of way.

And although I’m no longer your fearless corporate queen, I still have a lot to say.

Things have changed, in a beautiful way. I’m older (27), wiser, with a lot more life that’s been lived. Life feels different — more intentional in where I’m sewing roots, where I’m spending my time. The ambitious 23-year-old girl that slaved away at the office all day, whisked away to happy hours and blogger events, and stayed up until 3 am in the morning to make sure a post went up, has traded that for cozy quiet nights watching Gilmore Girls and making salmon bowls.

And my relationship with ambition has changed — I think before I use to let it overpower me, swing me left and right with my emotions in toll as well. Everywhere I looked, I wanted to be on top — and a part of me would be disappointed when others made it there before me.

Now… ambition feels more like a dance, and God is leading. I’m not anxious, instead, I understand that there is life to be lived and (most times) living it ambitiously is not the anecdote. We tuck her away most days, and bring her out to waltz when needed — that’s right, a waltz.

Gracious.

Forgiving.

Enough to get me out of my “what’s next” slump, but with enough self-control to make sure I don’t spiral into a “this is the only thing that matters” hole.

Because to be honest, it isn’t.

There is so much more to life. A scary thing to admit in a world where productivity is a currency and the busiest of the bees are praised. But don’t we often find ourselves longing for the slow steadiness of life in the midst of piles of tasks and deadlines? We look up and think “What’s it all for?”

“What’s this all for?”

I’ve been lulling that question for months now.

“Do people even read blogs anymore?” 

If they don’t, I guess I’m writing to myself. A time capsule to revisit with memories of how I felt with each type stroke and each inspirational picture placed. 

And if they do… well then, hello, friend.

Welcome to my corner of the internet. 

FOR WHEN YOU’RE FEELING HOPEFUL

Phillippians 1:6
I am sure of this, that he who started a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

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